Middle Earth

New Zealand

-NORTH ISLAND-

A Kiwi Adventure

November 29^th – December 8^th

Luscious green hills topped with an endless bounty of rich forest and fulfilled dreams of natural conservation. A paradise, a getaway, another world. It is composed of white fluffy sheep grazing along the country side and healthy cows digesting dark green grass that spans forever before them. 

Conservation of nature is the goal and leaving no trace is the method. The people are kind and the government is understanding. They consult the locals before building on the landscape and provide social health care for all Kiwis, regardless of class. The tax is high, but the standard and comfort of living is so much higher.

This is Middle Earth.

I flew to Auckland, New Zealand on November 29, 2014 from Sydney, Australia. It was a muggy day with an illuminating sun of burnt yellow and orange. While the orange sun contained promising joys, Jetstar’s orange airline did not. A delayed flight from 4:45 arrival to 5:30 led to a stressful evening. After finally getting through customs, I met up with my mom (the small kind Asian women in bright orange and yellow) and my mate Corbin. We walked over to pick up our car at the airport at 6:05 P.M. only to discover their office closed at 6:00 P.M. I was mortified. We had no car, no wifi and were stranded in a beautiful country. Although a bit put off by the stress of my plans falling through, we thought quickly and became resourceful.

I met my relatives for the first time, and thanks to their hospitality, stayed with them (Dom, Miriam, Celine, Dave, Jinkee) during my time in north island.

Although a shaky start, the journey became a ride I could only have imagined in the depths of my innermost being.

Hobbit Holes, Rolling Green Hills and Sheep, Oh My

A picture of one of the hobbit holes at Hobbiton

November 30^th

A Peaceful Adrenaline Rush.

Oh Jucy. After finally picking up our jucy rental car we made our way to the Hobbiton Movie Set located in MataMata. For all I thought, this was going to be like any other drive, boring freeways and fast paced folks with little to no scenery in between.

I was beyond wrong (if that’s even possible).

The drive was peaceful and relaxing. We drove with ease, leaning into the bends of the road, as if we too were part of the endless green landscape. I wanted to take it all in. To open my eyes wide open and forever stamp the image of pure beauty in my mind. We took our time, gasped in awe after every turn and felt awake. Now this, this was living. The cookie cutter boxed living of suburbia was nowhere to be found. Just me, an abundant amount of sheep, and an unblemished land was all that there was and would be during the drive to Hobbiton.

At least, from my perspective.

The tour of Hobbiton was not only scenic but educational. I learned about Peter Jackson and the immense amount of time he took in creating the Shire until detailed to his own definition of perfection.

This intricate work (Painting leaves to a desired shade, taking apart and putting together trees, etc.) done by so many nameless workers produced a cultural boom that my generation would embrace and connect on for years and years to come. A cherished series, built up by those who didn’t want the fame and publicized to attract fans around the world. A living Middle Earth to those who just believed.

Thanks for the faith New Zealand.

We finished off the tour with a beer at The Green Dragon Inn and a feeling of satisfaction in experiencing a movie set created in nature to feature none other than nature itself.

Cutting Serenity with High

Taking in the beauty of North Island right before a zip line

November 30^th

“They won't see us waving from such great heights, 'come down now,’ they’ll say. But everything looks perfect from far away, 'come down now,' but we'll stay.”

– The Postal Service

After a peaceful tour of Hobbiton I was ready to feed my adrenaline appetite and feel the rush of uncertainty. Corbin, Mom and I made our way to the town of Roturua and stumbled upon the Skyline. We ended up experiencing a Gondola ride, a couple scenic Luge rides down Mt. Ngongotaha, a 383 m zip line through the redwood forest, and a Quickjump with a 10 m freefall.

While the zipline was peaceful and scenic, the Quickjump balanced out the day with a high (literally), providing the opportunity for me to lose control and trust in faith.

I stood at the edge of the wooden ledge, my back to the drop and my eyes straight ahead. My heart beat to the drum of my nerves as I grasped the harness secured around my chest and waist. With no hesitation, I lifted my feet off the hard wood and fell back, freeing myself from the constructs of my own fear.

A short fall, but a huge leap in facing my fear of heights.

I was free. I felt time stand still as I stared at the magnificent trees and clear blue cotton sky waiting for the rope to break my fall. It broke. And I was lowered down into the dark soil that represented stability and safety. As I waited for the crew, I drifted into a mellow nonchalance that could be characterized as peace in testing the ambiguity of ropes and my own ability to trust in a force beyond the physicality of body and into creative sphere of mind.

The Light is in the Tunnel

Corbin, Mom and I before entering the Waitomo Caves

December 1st 

Plunge. Shiver. Awake. Alive.

I jumped back into the pitch black darkness in the cave, clenching the partially inflated grey tube under my legs, hoping it would break my fall.

Splash.

The icy cold water came up all around me as I looked up to a well-lit ceiling, reflecting an ecosystem of glowing warms pooping and feasting on their prey. Gross. But oh was it beautiful. It was a light in a world of darkness to guide the living to the comfort of day and the dreamers to their most innermost senses.

The Black Labyrinth Tour, known to some as just “cave tubing,” is held at the Waitomo glow warm caves in Waitomo, North Island. The tour includes black water tubing, waterfall leaping, and serene floating down Ruakuri Cave for a total of three hours.

The water may have been icy but my heart was ablaze with fire.

I was able to plummet into an abyss of darkness with no worries or fears of falling into the unknown. I knew I would eventually hit that sharp chilly water, so why not enjoy the free fall along the way? 

The air cruised over my wet suit and fell flat in my chest as I breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. I wasn't falling, I was jumping. I chose to reach out and taste the pure sweetness of adrenaline and test the waters of my own confidence. I did it. And I wanted to do it again and again and again.

While the jump was a flash of high, the float down the calm black waters was a period of quiet self-reflection.

The dark cave surrounded me much like the dark places of the mind. I slowly moved forward, floating easily with little effort, letting the water and the light from above guide me to its predestination.

Although I fight against the current often to shape my own destiny, I sometimes forget to sit back and enjoy the journey. While trying to reach the light (my goals) at the end, I lose track of the most important aspect of accomplishment. It is the light throughout the tunnel, the learning experience, the fall.

In that moment, I let my limbs go limp and my body grow cold as I warmed the passion of my heart with the light hidden within the dark.

-SOUTH ISLAND-

To Live

Flying over South Island, New Zealand.

December 2nd  - 7th 

White powdery clouds of lost souls

Flying

Breaking through only to be swept away into oblivion of doubt

Flying

Transformation, twisting those clouds and churning them into an infinitive heaven

Flying

Embracing lost directions and following the pulse of heart blindly

Flying

Finding satisfaction, peace in drifting through the qualms and embracing the journey

To fly

Oh to fly

To live

Jagged snow covered mountain tops and green hills coated the entirety of south island with a youthful essence. We flew into Queenstown, a small lovely town filled with tourists and unlimited adventure (if the price is right). It was a beautiful day with slight winds and chill. In order to drive up to Franz Joseph Glacier (4 ½ drive), we could only allocate the morning and afternoon to Queenstown. After looking through the pamphlets on adrenaline pumping activities, I yearned to stay longer. Instead of wishing, we decided to choose one activity to capture our time in Queenstown and give us a boost of energy for the long drive.

We decided on the shotover jet, a jet that speeds through canyons on the shotover river . As soon as we arrived via complementary bus, I knew we were in for a treat. We dressed quickly in life jackets and black waterproof cloaks that looked as if we were entering a “matrix world.”

Corbin and I jumped in the boat first and sat in the front with the driver while mom sat behind on the side. As the boat was filled with excited passengers, Corbin mounted his GoPro to capture the speedy ride. The driver suddenly hit the gas and we flew… We flew over the aqua blue water straight from the snowfall of the mountains without losing any momentum. The boat took us through the cool river, twisting and turning and hugging the sides. The rocks were close to my right, so close that I could stick my hand out and graze the side – that is, if I wanted to lose my hand to the force of speed and hard rocky cliff. The water was fresh and the ride was exhilarating. The driver “lost control” multiple times by spinning the boat until we were at the mercy of engine, boat, water and sky. It was fun, it was exciting – it was an energy booster.

Afterwards, we started on the beautiful journey to Franz Joseph Glacier. We stayed on a two lane road that weaved in and out of the mountains with no shortness of breathtaking views.

Finding peace in nature

The journey was scenic but required my undivided attention as I drove us on the edge of mountains with nothing to catch our fall. After hours and hours of driving and taking turns, toilet breaks and look out points, we were ready to arrive at a glacier that could invoke feelings of closeness to the almighty divine. Instead, we came to a sign in the road that read “Road Closed.”

I was devastated.

After speaking to a construction worker, I found out the road would be closed until 10:30 A.M the following morning. At this point, I could hardly contain my disappointment. I had a sky dive booked the next morning and no way to get there unless the construction work magically disappeared. 

Fortunately, I called the skydive company and was able to push my dive to a later time the next day. Our options were slim; we could stay at the motel or drive further and “camp out” by the road. 

We chose the road.

We drove past the “Road Closed” sign with a smirk and look of giddy rebellion. 20 minutes later we reached our stopping point. A metal gate blocked the drive, forcing us to stop and prepare for the night. We set up camp next to a cool and mellow river that reflected the billowing mountains overhead. Corbin and I gathered dry drift wood to build a fire and prove our self-sufficiency from modern day society. A couple of Bear Gryllses, taking advantage of nature’s natural resources. But where… where were the man-made matches? I guess we weren't as independent as we would like. 

None the less, we were in the making.

The sun drifted away and the night sky fell before us with a velocity of rapid succession. It was freezing. It was uncomfortable. Little to no sleep was had. But oh was it beautiful. The stars shed light on our situation. A dark sky with infinite bullet holes to let an illuminating love shine through. This was traveling. We do it to lose ourselves in the culture and nature of a foreign land while finding pieces of ourselves along the way we didn't even know existed. A peace from within provoked by an intimate experience only with mother earth. That connection, that strong yet delicate tie that could be broken with a honk of a horn or a negative thought was the lifeline to my own journey. It was the destination. It was the answer to my own wonder and incredulous feelings of lack of fulfillment and life meaning. I was alive.

As fate would have it, the helihike and skydive were both cancelled due to the cloudy fog and rain fall. We stayed a few nights in Franz Joseph to try and ride out the storms, but we had no luck. Instead, we walked as far as we could to the face of the glacier before having to turn back because of the pouring rain. A serene walk, but no sky dive or hike.

The Walk to the Glacier Face 

We fell short from the wild adventure but decided to keep positive and continue creating our own.

The beach I was sitting at in the small town called Hokitika 

The drive to Christchurch was scenic and enjoyable. Although a long drive, the mountains encapsulated the beauty. The water was aqua blue with a freshness that screamed youth and good health. At Christchurch, we explored the town and attended a cute farmers market that consisted of food trucks and dancing. The next day we traveled the main part of the city by trolley which only took about 25 minutes round trip. We got off and on, making use of the history lessons in between by the conductor throughout the day. All around, I witnessed the effects of the earthquake from 2011 which had destroyed the small city.

The aftermath of the earthquake on a church

Although a devastating blow, the community banded together and turned a tragic disaster into a blessing in disguise.

For the rest of the day we learned about New Zealand history at the Museum of Christchurch, walked the vibrant botanic gardens and enjoyed the rest of the night in the community.

We flew back to North Island the next day and had a lovely evening with the relatives and two of their friends. Good company, good food, good beer, good wine - and a hell of a good time. Kiwis know how to host and make you feel right at home.

While the trip was short with plenty left to see, I felt accomplished in making the most of my time and feeling a strong connection with the land that had provided. To see pure beauty unaltered, without the contamination of people and their structures felt heavenly. Paradise. A paradise for those who seek will find a gem in a world of ruin. It is called New Zealand. It is an abode of wonder, a journey to travel, a country to experience – a dwelling to live.  

There’s Nowhere to Go but Up

Day 1: Challenge Accepted

On the cold rainy morning of August 29^th, my two flatmates and I left our small humble apartment in the city to venture out to the beautiful Blue Mountains of New South Wales, Australia. We caught the train to Katoomba that morning, hiking gear in tow, along with other members of the Learning in Outdoor Education class. Two hours later we arrived at the station and ventured to the Blue Mountains via bus.

Before heading on the trail we broke up into small random groups composed of about 12 people. I once again ended up with the punny Wayne Cotton as my knowledgeable instructor and hiking guide. From there, my group and I slowly made our way along the trail, stopping frequently for a lesson in trees, birds, plants and waterfalls. One of the first waterfall’s we encountered looked like a deformed human face protruding from a cold hard slab of rock as water rushed down the contours of the stone.

The "face" rock

The farther we went into the mountains the more and more beautiful the trail became. Dark green plants and trees surrounded the trail on both sides, pushing wanderers along a path filled with fresh air and remnants of life. The day was peaceful and the weather was cool and lazy. And then the challenge fell upon us. Wayne stopped our hiking group at a cave with a small opening on the side of the pathway, a hole so small that it was almost invisible to the regular outside explorer mossing along. At this point, I was awaiting a long speech about life and a metaphor about the cave and our own lives. Instead, I was surprised with Wayne’s short but sweet statement. He said something along the lines of “It is your choice to crawl through the cave opening. What does it mean if you do it? It can mean nothing or it can mean anything. It is simply a challenge.” Being a dare devil at heart and one to never step down from a test, I thought, “Challenge Accepted.”

A couple students before me slowly crawled through the cave opening and popped out the end. I squeezed my way into the whole and felt the cool dirt brush against my rain jacket and pants. I used my elbows to crawl forward and my feet to push me ahead deeper into the narrow whole. As I got towards the end, the cave opening got narrower and narrower, my breathing increased in rapid succession and my heart pumped faster and faster. I felt as if I couldn't move another inch without squishing my whole body against the roof of the cave. With baby crawls and slow movements I finally made my way out of the opening of the cave into the sunlight (which had never felt so good). I was dirty but feeling fresh and alive.

Other students followed through the cave opening not long after, with others struggling as well. Some students stopped mid-way in and proclaimed they couldn't go further and thought about climbing back out the entrance. The team at the other end, including myself, shot out encouragement and positive words to help egg on the others to keep moving forward and not look back. That day, every single member of my group took on the challenge and made it through in one piece.

A member of our hiking group coming out of the cave's narrow opening happy and alive

So, what did horizontal climbing through an old narrow cave opening filled with dirt and spiders mean? To some it meant they simply did it, to others it meant they overcame their fear of claustrophobia, to me, it meant so much more. 

In my own life I have faced challenges, struggled to get through them and have succeeded against all odds. Some people view me as an overachiever while others view me as being “naturally smart.” The truth is, I am neither. Just like the cave crawl, I accept challenges to learn and to grow. I know what I can accomplish and will not settle for less than what I believe I can achieve. Just like the narrow portion of the cave, there will always be struggles. People telling me I can’t reach my goal and that it’s impossible. Funny enough, I am usually my worst critic. When things get tough or a challenge becomes harder, I emotionally beat myself up. I tell myself a girl from a small country town couldn't possibly compete and make it out on top. She has no advantage, she didn't attend a high achieving school, she doesn't come from a family of fortune, and she is and always has been self-supporting. 

But then I see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Just like the cave crawl, I stop, look around, and slowly move forward. I shrug off my own criticism and replace them with positive thoughts. Thoughts of how far I have come in my life and the long list of goals I have yet to accomplish, goals that I WILL accomplish. As I crawl, I realize I have every advantage in the world. Because what I have is something that can never be broken, I have heart and an abnormal determination. A passion so bright that it couldn't burn out even if someone tried to force it to. And just like that, I leave my dark cave of self-criticism and accomplish the greatest challenge of all. That is, overcoming the only person that could ever stop me, myself.

After the cave adventure, we made our way along the trail onto the ledge of a cliff. Long and behold, the Three Sisters sat in eyesight, radiating its beauty to every beholder.

The Three Sisters

Later in the day, during the last portion of the hike, we stopped for a breather before climbing up along the stairs to Echo Point.

A photo collage of a couple students and myself journeying up the Giant Stairway to Echo Point.

The trek up the stairs was long and hard. Despite the massive staircase, my hiking mates and I laughed and joked around. We even sang along with Niko to “Baby Got Back.” Although my calves were tight and my breaths were short, I was totally immersed in the beautiful scenery of the Blue Mountains during the climb. With every step up, the view became richer and fuller while my pain seemed to roll away into oblivion.

One step led to another and then to another until finally:

A panorama view of the Blue Mountains

Perfection.

Our hiking group selfie at Echo Point

Day 2: Beauty is Subjective

6:45 A.M.

Could my alarm be any louder?

The day started out rainy and dreary as my four cabin mates and I left to join the others at the bus. We arrived at a random lookout point in the Blue Mountains where the fog seemed to cover the trees like a thick spread of peanut butter.

Ellie, Cristal and I dressed up in our rain jackets and ready for the fog that filled the valley

We received the privilege to choose our own hiking instructor. I took one look at Ian and darted over to his side. Ever since I joined the class I wanted to experience Ian’s method of teaching outside of lecture and in nature, so you could say I was beyond excited to start out the day with my mates (Cristal, Ellie, Sarah) by my side. We started out by venturing down the cliff into the valley, stopping frequently to learn about the different kinds of wildlife and trees.

My hiking group and I striking our silly pose with the "paint" of a turpentine tree marked on our faces

As we slowly made our way down, I felt as if I was deep into the Amazon forest with nothing but a God like presence behind and before me.

The thick green trees and plants were rich with life

A picture of me crossing a stream

During the hike down, Ian stopped us in front of a cave opening that plunged down vertically into darkness. Ian and Juan (aka “Juicy Juan”) hoped down into the opening to help students make their way down. While some students were scared of the challenge, I once again felt excited and daring. My mentality: “Challenge Accepted.” After making our way through the cave and out into the open, the plan was for the group to wait outside the opening until everyone had made it through. Unfortunately, this was not the case. As I made it out of the cave I noticed everyone scattered around in different directions. As such, I made my way down a path to enjoy a small waterfall with a couple others as we waited for the other students to make it through the cave. After listening to nature’s music, I followed the track up and told Ellie and Cristal about the lovely falls.

After a little while, everyone made it through safe and sound. The group commenced in line formation on the trail and a routine head count was called by the leader. We made our way downhill for about an hour until making our way into the valley where the river bed was housed. We stopped for lunch along the river with two other hiking groups to replenish our energy and rest.

During lunch, Juicy Juan and I discussed some good places in Sydney to go dancing at and he told me he liked to salsa. Being that I love to dance but have never salsaed before, I asked Juicy to teach me how to salsa in front of my peers, instructors and mother nature herself.

The other hiking groups soon left and continued their journey as we settled in and ate our lunch. Suddenly, Sarah asked where Ellie and Cristal were. We looked around nervously at each other and realized we had broken one of the cardinal rules: Never leave a mate behind. Ian and Juan scurried back up the cliff as the rest of us waited by the river. At that moment, I had realized what happened. I told Ellie and Cristal about the waterfall but failed to check if they had rejoined the group. I couldn’t have felt guiltier. Here I was salsa dancing and having the time of my life as Cristal and Ellie were lost and afraid. I had a quick look through my pictures and found a selfie of Ellie that she must have taken on my phone. I looked at it and thought… this may be the last time I ever see her beautiful face.

My friend took this beautiful selfie on my phone. The last image I would have had of her.

Fortunately, 20 minutes later, Ian and Juan had returned to the group with my two friends by their side. Oh did they have a story to tell. But I’ll let them tell it through their blogs.

From that experience I learned more than I was expecting. I learned how crucial communication is, especially during unfamiliar trips in the outdoors when being lost can be dangerous and life threatening. Teamwork is more than the art of working together; it is the linkage of emotions and consciousness thoughts about others. Lastly, I realized how much these two ladies have come to mean to me and the positive impact their friendship has had on my life.

The journey continued and it couldn't have been more beautiful. While the scenery along the river bed was breathtaking, the connection I formed with Cristal was just as amazing. During the trail Cristal and I spoke about subjects we hadn't explored together but had thought separately about. We talked about growing old and the importance of gaining wisdom and strength through the natural world. Our topics spanned from our goals in life, to how nature impacts our feelings, to death and to the meaning of life.

One with nature

After making our way through the valley, we entered the last stage of our hike: The difficult and physically draining uphill track. We started along hiking full speed ahead and gradually slowed down.

At this point, I felt exhausted. My calves burned with every stride and the steps kept multiplying without giving any lee way. The trees and moss no longer seemed to have their magnificent glow as I stopped enjoying nature’s splendid glory. I started questioning my choice of joining the class as negative thoughts crept into my mind about my own physique compared to others in the class that were more physically fit.

Suddenly, I stopped.

I took a minute to re-orientate my thoughts. Took a deep breath, and gazed at the spectacular world that surrounded me.

Like with any challenge, comes a choice. A choice to continue onward and grow or a choice to stay stagnate.

I chose growth.

“There’s nowhere to go but up” I thought.“There’s nowhere to go but up.”

The tall and glorious waterfall to the left and me hiking along the cliff towards the right with the waterfall in the background

Day 3: I Am

The last day of the hike proved to be one of the most remarkable in terms of scenery and self-discovery. Before going on the hike, Ian led the group in some stretches to soften up those stiff muscles from the day before.

I chose Ian’s group once more before starting the hike. As we made our way down the path, Ian tested our knowledge from the weekend by having us recall certain trees and animals we had learned about from the previous two days. I instantly thought of the lyrebird, an Australian native bird that mimics other birds and sounds.

The morning was peaceful and slow, a perfect way to start of a day basked in nature’s serenity.

We enjoyed each other’s company and the bountiful amounts of waterfalls that accompanied the path.

A couple different waterfalls along the path

Later on in the day, we stopped for lunch at a large towering waterfall. The same waterfall we would be climbing up and over. 

During the hike up to the cliff base, I felt every part of my body as my legs stung and my heart raced. I felt satisfied knowing that I was exerting myself and pushing my body beyond its normal stopping point.

At the cliff base, there were some gnarley stairs in cages that made me feel secure as we made the vertical hike up along the mountain’s edge.

My friend Jessica and I in the "cage" along the mountain's cliff 

This uphill fight against gravity turned into one of the most powerful experiences I have encountered in nature thus far. I felt limitless yet heavy as my body stood suspended on the mountain’s edge as my thoughts floated effortlessly across the clear blue sky. As I grasped the rock and man-made structure all I could think about was the perfect combination of human connection and natural world bestowed upon our human race. As is so, contemporary society is slowly destroying both.

I felt so free, free to laugh, free to smile and free to just live. How could it be that I felt so close with nature yet so fearful of her ability to take my life away in an instant? That’s when I realized what is truly beautiful and worth fighting for. It’s moments like this, where living is not living unless you are feeling. Feeling every breath you take, the cool breeze on your skin and the sweat on your forehead. It’s being one with the natural world and appreciating its wonders and splendor that we can only remotely understand.

From then on I realized why the Blue Mountains would forever change me and my perspective on the world. I finally understood why life has a meaning and why writing will always be my purpose. An answer I could only find through self-reflection and the exertion of body and soul in the divinity of the natural world.

I am.

A picture of me soaking in earth's beauty. Feeling peaceful simply in "being."

Author’s Note:

As part of the class, it was required to write about my experiences using a blog as a tool to communicate my self-reflection. I enjoyed using this medium and have taken it a step further by creating other blogs of my own. Combining my photos, video and writing gave me the opportunity to think deeply and understand myself through Learning in Outdoor Education. For this kind of learning I believe an essay or a “turn in” assignment wouldn't have done the program justice and would have stifled the learning experience. Through blogging, I have felt that I can be intimate with my thoughts and freely profess them as I would in a journal. It has given me the space to not only share my feelings, but to reflect on them and the impact of nature on my livelihood. I would like to recommend this tool for anyone who enjoys nature and would like to deeply explore the impact it has on their character and thoughts.

While I do believe in the positive power of the blog (since writing in any form is seductive), there are some cons. The experiences one feels in nature and the pictures and videos posted can only go so far. Anyone can view them but not everyone can understand the meaning. Sometimes the experiences you receive are just that, experiences; an experience that can only be felt while doing and in the moment. I fear that some will use this tool to live out their own so called “experience” through the eyes of blog writers and will be deterred from going out and seeing these sights first hand. I can only hope that people will not only read my blog, but will be inspired to shut down the lap top, live and explore.