The Creation of NZ (according to the Maori)

Maui was a demi-god, who lived in Hawaiiki. He possessed magic powers that not all of his family knew about.

One day when he was very young, he hid in the bottom of his brothers' boat in order to go out fishing with them. Once out at sea, Maui was discovered by his brothers, but they were not able to take him back to shore as Maui made use of his magic powers, making the shoreline seem much further away than it was in reality.

So the brothers continued rowing, and once they were far out into the ocean Maui dropped his magic fishhook over the side of the waka (canoe). After a while he felt a strong tug on the line. This seemed to be too strong a tug to be any ordinary fish, so Maui called to his brothers for assistance.

After much straining and pulling, up suddenly surfaced Te Ika a Maui (the fish of Maui), known today as the North Island of New Zealand. Maui told his brothers that the Gods might be angry about this, and he asked his brothers to wait while he went to make peace with the Gods.

However, once Maui had gone his brothers began to argue among themselves about the possession of this new land. They took out their weapons and started pounding away at the catch. The blows on the land created the many mountains and valleys of the North Island today.

In an unfortunate turn of events, Maui then bumped into his old acquaintance, Satan, just as he was returning from his epic fishing trip. To celebrate, the two of them went out drinking (as Satan is wont to do). The next morning, Maui awoke with a demigod-grade hangover to discover that he had somehow created the sandfly during his night out. The Gods were incredibly pissed about this and an entirely new set of demigods was soon elected.

Now is a good time to point out that New Zealand is remarkably devoid of creatures capable of hurting humans (especially when you consider its proximity to Australia, where most living things can kill you instantly). There are no poisonous snakes. The only mammals present are dolphins and one species of long-tailed bat (ergo, no bears, wolverines, boars, mountain lions, etc.). There are two species of posionous spiders here, but bites from them are extremely rare. As you'll recall, the apex predator when the Maori first arrived was a huge, flightless bird.

This is where the sandfly comes in. It's really the only creature you have to worry about, but Holy Mother of God is it a nusiance. They congregate around areas with running water and they show up in huge numbers. Their bite isn't too bad- it feels kind of like a flea- but the itching that results is awful. If you've ever been bitten by a chigger, that's a reasonable approximation.

There's no really good way to avoid these things. I've tried 90% DEET (how good is that for your skin?) and it only kinda worked. They do fly slowly, though, so they won't bite if you keep moving. This explains why people in certain parts of the South Island often appear to have a bad case of Parkinson's. Thankfully, we've only run into these terrors in remote places on the South Island. Unfortunately, we'll be spending most of January in- you guessed it- remote places on the South Island. I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh yeah: a few of you have asked about our plans for returning to the US. Not sure how I forgot to mention this, but I signed a new contract which starts in February and runs until mid-May. We'll be heading home before the end of May.

Thanks to maori-in-oz.com for the creation story (minus the last paragraph) and to the NZ gov't for the pic of the sandfly.

Family Vacation, continued

That's my first brown trout.

We returned from Tahiti sunburned and happy, with two days to prepare for our next trip. Having my entire family in town was quite a treat as we were able to show them all the things we loved about Wellington.

My parents took the kids for a walk through the botanical gardens and came back raving about the rose garden (which had reached full bloom while we were away). Amy and I had a look for ourselves and were equally impressed:


After a few days in Welly, we all flew to the South Island and drove a few hours to the tiny town of St. Arnaud's (pop. 155). This town is situated at the tip of lake Rotoiti in the Nelson lakes national park. This is a fairly remote area and it's chock full of beautiful mountains and rivers.

A word about those rivers; just about every river in the area has world-class trout fishing. The plan was for Dad and my brothers to go fishing with a local guide while Amy and I took off on a brief tramp (of the rare, kids-free variety).

Amy and I climbed Mt. Roberts, which overlooks St. Arnaud's and lake Rotoiti. Guess what? It was beautiful. (Aside: everything here is beautiful. I've run out of synonyms for "beautiful" by this point in the blog. If you can think of any useful ways to describe something as pretty, please email me.) Here are some pics:

Lake Rotoiti, from about halfway up Mt. Roberts. That boat is heading towards St. Arnaud's. The gentle slope on the right is the result of glaciers which were here a (long) while back.

We camped that night in one of the local tramping huts. These are well maintained cabins which can be found throughout the backcountry along major trails. We had some nice views from the top until the clouds rolled in that evening:
Above: The view of the lake from the hut.

The Bushline hut, so named because it's situated right at the bushline. This is what it looked like that evening when the clouds rolled in.

We returned after our getaway to find that the kids had been having quite a good time with Getch and Grandad:


And now, on to the fishing.

I've heard quite a few well-traveled fly fisherman opine that New Zealand is home to the best trout fishing in the world. The fishing itself can be pretty tough because the water is so clear that you have to spot the fish before they spot you, then sneak up on them without spooking them. If you actually manage to hook one, then you're in a different kind of trouble because every fish you see is so damn huge that they'll snap the line in a heartbeat. How big are they? Kraemer (who's done a lot of fly fishing) says that a trophy brown back in the States is anything over about 20 inches long, weighing in at 5 pounds or more. People fish their whole lives and never land trout this big.

Kraemer and I hooked 7 fish, landing 4 on our day together and the smallest one we caught weighed at least 6 pounds. It was pretty ridiculous to see that many huge fish and we had one hell of a good time.


Above: Kraemer fights another beauty. If you look closely, you can see the fish.

Kraemer landed this one about 5 minutes after we got to the river.

Warning: the next section gets a bit graphic. It's probably worth reading, unless you're squeamish.

In the course of the few days we were there, we spent a lot of time in the company of the locals, including our guide. They informed us that if we really wanted to get in on some good fishing then we should come back next year, during the mouse plague.

"The what?" we asked.

"The mouse plague, eh. See, the local beech trees flower every 5 or six years, and they drop millions of small seeds. The mice go nuts, and breed like,...well, mice, and pretty soon you've got a full-blown plague. You'll see them gathered in the road at night."

Us: "As in, hundreds of them in the road at once?"

Them: "Try tens of thousands; you'll see a solid sheet of mice when you drive around the corner. They're everywhere. They fall into the rivers and lakes and the trout go nuts. They gorge themselves like you wouldn't believe. Six pound trout turn into ten pound trout in a few weeks. When you pick them up, they barf and shit mice at the same time. You can see the lumps in the fish because they're so full. Hell, the fish even get hemorrhoids from crapping so many mice. It's pretty brilliant, eh?"

Amy did not think this was brilliant and she made it quite clear that she wouldn't be joining us during the mouse plague years.

Up next: I wasn't able to cover sandflies this time, so we'll touch on that subject later. Also, Christmas in summertime.

Changes in Latitudes

Amy and I threw a bit of a kink into the Lovelace's annual family vacation plans by moving 9,000 miles away, so we decided to split the difference and meet up somewhere in the Pacific. A few weeks back Kraemer, Amy, myself, and the kids all packed up our swimming togs (swimsuits) and hopped on a 5 hour flight to Tahiti.

Tahiti is the main island of the group of islands known as French Polynesia. True to their name, the people of these islands parlay some serious Francais; consequently there is a surprisingly large language barrier. Ordering food in English produced random results so I found myself trying to speak French, which is always amusing.

The main island of Tahiti is surprisingly underwhelming. It's got an airport and a bunch of hotels but it's not the dreamy little island you might expect. A rather unglamorous city and ordinary coastline are all that the main city of Papeete has to offer. A short plane ride away, though, lie some of the most beautiful islands on Earth.

Our first real stop was the nearby island of Moorea. We proceeded to do Beach Things there for about 3 days. The water was clear, the snorkeling good, and the sun hot.

Above: Uncle Kraemer and Quinn at the pool; below,swimming with Uncle Preston.


It was during our stay on Moorea that we first encountered Hinano Tahiti. This beer deserves special mention: Hinano is the local brew and it has a monopoly on the place. Hinano is a soulless lager with strong undertones of skunked Beast. We worked hard to refine our beer drinking technique, eventually realizing that Hinano is at its best when pulled out of the freezer and consumed quickly while holding one's nose.

After a few days of chilling on the beach we took a short flight to Bora Bora, where we proceeded to chill out on the beach. Bora Bora is a classic atoll (follow the link for a nifty explanation of how these form), which means that its main island is surrounded by a coral reef. The water in the lagoon is an impossible shade of azure and the barrier reef ensures that the lagoon remains quite placid. We spent some time taking small boats around the atoll, snorkelling whenever we found a good spot.

Above: Bora Bora's main island

Above: L'hotel et la plage

Amelia, safety conscious as ever.

Grandad and Quinn

After a few days in Bora Bora, I began to understand why many of the US troops stationed there in the War decided not to return home. It's a beautiful and peaceful place and it was great spending so much quality time with the family.


Coming soon: The family vacation continues on the South Island; a nice tramp, demonic sandflies, and trout fishing.