My last post from this magical land. I feel as if I'm parting from a dear friend, and I'm very reluctant to leave. I won't miss living out of a suitcase or wearing the same five shirts over and over, but I will miss the summer weather, long days, all the physical activity, the beautiful scenery, and my new friends. Farewell, New Zealand! I hope we meet again soon! |
Perhaps the best discovery of my trip to New Zealand has been the very tasty savory pies. They're slightly bigger than our pot pies and come in a variety of flavors including mince and cheese (pictured), steak and cheese, and chicken and mushroom. You can get them frozen, in a hot-lamp display case at the local convenience store, or (best) fresh from a bakery or cafe. The buttery pastry flakes on your mouth and hands as you make your way through the warm, rich layers of crust and filling. (Forks are optional.) It's contentment in a pastry shell. Another yummy discovery I've made is the Afghan cookie: a hard chocolate cookie made with crushed cornflakes in addition to the flour, giving it a more rugged texture and a bit more crunch. These cookies are often topped with a small smear of chocolate frosting and a walnut. After my final day of cycling along the Queen Charlotte Sound, I tucked into both of these delicious specimens of local cuisine, feeling quite like a local. Bike ride + savory pie + cookie + New Zealand natural beauty = perfect bliss. |
Can you handle another beautiful scene out the window when you wake up in the morning? If not--if scenery just isn't your thing--New Zealand isn't the place for you, 'cause it's got gorgeous scenery everywhere you look. This particular shot was snatched this morning before breakfast outside our B&B in the seaside town of Kaikoura, on the eastern coast of the South Island. We were scheduled to go snorkeling with fur seals this morning but it was so windy and the water consequently so choppy that it was called off, though not before we'd struggled into wet suits and trekked out to the designated cove in them. No matter, it was still a beautiful day. I'm going to miss this place! I already have a long list of "next time" activities and places. |
I took this photo this morning with my phone's camera. I was riding along the Queen Charlotte Sound on a narrow, windy mountain road towards the town of Picton when I spotted this rainbow while coming around a bend. It had been misty all morning and the sun had broken through at last, sending this rainbow cascading down into the harbor. Today: consultant. Tomorrow: National Geographic photographer? Anything is possible! |
Follow-up to previous post about mountain biking on the Queen Charlotte Track. This is how the day started.
After Amanda's unfortunate introduction to mountain biking on day one (read, three falls in less than 30 minutes), we opted for road riding on our second biking day. The rest of the group were off trekking through Nelson Lakes National Park (and staying in huts with no plumbing or electricity!) so we were at liberty to create our daily itinerary with our guide, Aaron. He laid out a map and outlined where he proposed we ride that morning. We would ride through farmland to the mouth of Kenapuru Sound, then along its length. He warned us that, to get there initially, we'd have "a bitch of a climb" but that that would be the worst of the climbing.
We set off through morning fog into the pastoral countryside. After a couple of small climbs that I foolishly thought were THE climb that Aaron had warned us about, we actually hit said long, windy hill. It just kept going and going. Several times I wanted to stop and walk, but each time, I looked ahead and thought the road seemed to flatten out at the next bend in the road.
"Surely that is the top," I thought, and kept pedaling only to discover more hill around the bend.
I passed Amanda, who had paused to catch her breath, and as Aaron slowed to check on her, he instructed me to stop at the car park (really just a wide gravel shoulder) at the top of the hill and wait for them. I nodded and struggled on. Where was that $@#*% summit?
Around a few more bends in the shadow of the hilltop I labored. Then I saw the "car park" ahead, bathed in sunlight, bright like a beacon. I huffed and puffed up the final slope and pulled over onto the gravel. My reward for that toil was before me: a magnificent view of the Sound below, water and mountains stretching to the distant horizon and endless sky overhead. What a reward!
Amanda and Aaron joined me at the top a few minutes later and we all caught our breath while marveling at the splendor before us. Then we mounted our bikes once again and continued on our journey.
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Rule number one in mountain biking: Stay in control.
This is easier said than done when you're riding a narrow dirt track littered with rocks and roots, featuring numerous twists and turns and undulations, with a steep drop-off on one side. The word nerve-wracking comes to mind.
I'd been on a mountain bike a couple of times before, including once on this trip, but I count this as the first time I've ever truly been mountain biking. On Thursday, Amanda and I split from the rest of the group for a few days of mountain biking in the Marlborough Sounds area. The first day, we went out for a short ride along the Queen Charlotte Track, which borders the Queen Charlotte Sound. Luck was not with Amanda that afternoon and she fell three times, scraping up her knee and leg in the process. We turned back a bit early and called it a day.
The next day, we set out with our guide, Aaron, for a full day of cycling. Again, we mounted our mountain bikes but this time we stuck to the road. More on that bit later. By the afternoon, we'd reached another entrance to the track. Amanda said she'd be happy to walk the track while Aaron and I rode it. I honestly wasn't sure how well I'd do, based on my brief taste of true mountain biking the day before, but I wanted to give it a try and see how much I really could do. I expected to ride the first section and eventually to hit my limit and walk the rest.
Friends, I'm so happy to say that I rode the whole thing! True, there were a handful of spots where I got off and walked my bike for a minute to avoid particularly rooty, rocky, or steep bits (sometimes all those adjectives were together), but otherwise, I rode that entire 13-km section of the track. Woot! It was harrowing and nerve-racking to be sure. Many times I felt my heart beating quickly in my chest with fright. It was very hard to wrap my mind around the fact that I wasn't going to wipe out going over rocks or even just rough dirt, like I would have on my road bike. I had to learn to trust that the mountain bike could and would handle terrain that I would never dream of approaching on my skinny-tired road bike.
When we reached the end, where the paved road picked up again, I felt an enormous sense of accomplishment. I'd done something I wasn't sure I could do, and done it pretty well for a novice too! I was so proud of myself for trying it in the first place, for pushing through my discomfort, and for finishing what I started.
I've done some amazing things on this trip and every day has been terrific. However, I think yesterday might be my best day yet. I spent it on a bike (riding 40 km total, about 25 miles), the weather was perfect, the scenery pretty enough to make you cry, and I accomplished something hard that I hadn't expected to be able to do.
Thanks again, New Zealand.
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Framed.... A-Framed, that is, in one of our previous lodgings. We stayed for only one night in these "wilderness chalets," which seem to have been built in the 1950s and not really updated since. Nevertheless, they all had hot showers, electricity, and beds with clean sheets. Amanda and I had the family-sized chalet with wings on each side. Our only source of ventilation was the windows and I don't even want to think about how many bugs I ate while I slept. They were charming if not rustic. Hey look, that's me at the door, inviting you in. |
I thought I had been hiking before, even thought I'd done one or two challenging hikes in my lifetime. I was mistaken. The hike on the track to Alex Knob was a real hike: three hours (round trip) of scrambling over big rocks and roots in dense jungle, or bush as it's called here, the destination being a little ledge (not even at the end of the trail) with this view, of Franz Josef Glacier.
I started the hike with my pack on my back and my camera dangling from my wrist, as usual. I even snapped a few photos of the ultra-green canopy and probably at least one of moss or ferns too. Within twenty minutes of setting out, the camera went permanently into my backpack as I needed both hands to be free for negotiating the gnarly, often step, terrain. It was, as Stephen put it, definitely a beaten path.
We climbed up and over large irregularly-shaped rocks, passed through narrow trenches bordered by grassy banks, and made our way up steep steps made of tree roots, only to do it all in reverse on the way down.
The path's width varied between one and two feet, generally with a steep drop off on one side. Don't look too far down. Helicopters buzzed overhead, ferrying people to and from the glacier itself, including members of our group who'd paid extra for the experience.
By the time I reached the lookout spot, I was smelly and my shirt was nearly drenched with sweat under my pack. What a reward, though, this view! I took it all in: blue glacier sliding down towards the valley, overcast sky above, impossibly green vegetation, tiny helicopters framed against the dark mountain, and the undeniable sensation of being alive.
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This is it, friends. I've run out of adjectives to describe how magnificently beautiful this place is. The variety and lushness (if that's a word) and abundance of vegetation continue to amaze me. On our hike yesterday, Amanda and I spotted and named at least three new kinds of moss or fern, and Michael (solo traveler from Cyprus) discovered a strange purple mushroom growing on a fallen log in the path that Nick (one of our intrepid guides) dubbed snail mushroom because Michael initially thought it was a snail. I wonder if it's feasible to have a moss and fern terrarium in my house when I get back home. Oh wait, I'm not going back! This place is too magnificent! Enjoy this view of last night's perfect sunset in Punakaiki. |
Dear Real World,
I'm not coming back. I have found paradise and its name is Punakaiki, New Zealand. The internet and cellular phone network here could use a little work, but otherwise, it seems pretty perfect.
Please give my regards to everyone still there in the rat race. You're all welcome to come visit.
Love,
Adventuring Spinster |
Limestone rock formations at the coastal village of Punakaiki. No one knows exactly how they got their layered form, but they sure are cool!
We've spent the morning driving up the coast and now are heading out for another hike. Sun just came out and it feels quite a bit like paradise.
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I just discovered that the camera in my phone has a panorama setting, which has made for some cool photos. Among them is this one I took yesterday while we kayaked around Okarito Lagoon, on the west coast. Amanda was sitting in front, paddling, and as I panned across the horizon, the camera picked up portions of her strokes, creating the choppy effect you see in the photo. Click the photo to see it bigger and examine the paddle bits up close.
PS It was a fantastic kayak excursion, complete with jungle, a white Herron, fallen trees, glassy water and slightly rougher seas.
PPS It's awesome here!!
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The wind gusts did not deter us from getting off the bus. We had been driving for at least two hours heading steadily towards the coast. At last, the ocean broke into view, grayish green and frothing against the shore. The beach was relatively narrow, hemmed in by a bank of dark green bushes and a wide grassy expanse. This is the west coast of New Zealand's South Island: wet and full of "native bush," not overrun with European-imported flora and farmland like other parts of the country. A tangle of trees, ferns, shrubs, and other plants created a wall on our right while the ocean was steadily in view on the left. We tripped out of the bus and headed for the beach, where driftwood lay scattered over the dunes. (I actually climbed first into a lookout tower, where this photo was taken.) The sand gave way to a seam of small rocks, buffeted smooth by the tumbling surf. (I picked out a few nice ones for you, Grandma!) Wind whipped my hair in all directions. The wind did not, however, diminish our pleasure at seeing, at last, the mighty Tasman Sea. Out of our pockets came cameras and phones for photos. Into our pockets went stones and seashells to take home as mementos. Barb and Kim even snagged a gnarled piece of driftwood to take home (provided the can get it through Customs!). At last we headed back to the bus, pockets slightly heavier and spirits significantly lighter. Like so many before us, we had sought rejuvenation and energy from the ocean, and like so many, we had found it. |
If you know me at all, you know my favorite pastime is riding my bike. Yesterday, after a week of hiking, kayaking, and plenty of driving, we finally got to take a spin on a mountain bike. We rode a dusty dirt track for about 15 miles under an uncharacteristically hot sun. The brush on either side was scrubby and dry, yellow grass dotted with either large bushes or small trees that looked like sage brush, with stands of pines in the distance. We came to a bridge over a clear blue river that's a popular swimming hole for locals. Several brave souls from our group elected to jump in from the bridge, led by our intrepid guide, Nick. Apparently the water was quite cold, or as I like to say, "refreshing." In spite of being a little fearful of skidding and falling on the rough track, I was in my element on the bike (as opposed to struggling a bit with the more vigorous hikes). At the end of the ride, I was smelly and tired and covered in a fine layer of dust and very satisfied. |
I know, I know, so many of my photos are of lakes and mountains, frequently together. Soon they'll seem commonplace, even no longer worth noticing, like ornate churches and cathedrals in Europe after a few days of touring there. Nevertheless, these lakes and mountains still seem quite beautiful and photo-worthy to me now. Yesterday we did a short hike up Iron Mountain (no one knows why it's called that, as no iron is to be found within), where we had this gorgeous view of Lake Wanaka. After the hike, we had a picnic lunch on the shores of said lake before hopping on mountain bikes to ride a dirt path along the lake's shore and into scrubby countryside. It was a perfect weather day, very warm with loads of sun and blue sky. During our picnic lunch, someone in the group had the idea to take a group photo on the kids' slide in the adjacent playground. The slide looked like a big stegasaurus (dinosaur), with stairs up the tail and a bumpy slide over its back and down its head. Our guides kindly agreed to take the photo while the rest of us trudged up the stairs and then tried to wedge ourselves into a slide that was not meant for adult hips! The kids playing on the side protested. "This is for kids, not adults!" We even got some dirty looks from the parents. I haven't seen the photo but I'm sure we all look sufficiently ridiculous, stacked on top of each other with our legs hanging over the sides between the dinosaur's spiney plates. This is the stuff memories are made of! P.S. Have I mentioned how happy I am to be in the Southern Hemisphere summer instead of digging my way out of the 15" of snow that fell in DC recently? Ha. |
Today was a free day in Queenstown, the adventure capital of New Zealand and maybe the world. It's a small place that caters to tourists, especially adrenaline junkies and especially at this time of year. Shop names like NZ Shred and Vertigo give you an idea of what's on offer. Many of the workers I talked with come here from America for the summer months. I did something I've always wanted to do: hang gliding. I've wanted to do it since I first saw people hang gliding on t.v. (must have been) as a kid, and today was my chance. Friends, it did not disappoint. It was AWESOME! INCREDIBLE! FABULOUS! I went out in the morning. A van drove me to Coronet Peak, about 20 minutes outside of town. My tandem buddy (the experienced glider) was Gucci, a Frenchman who has been doing this for twelve years. He set up the hang glider while another guy gave me gear: plastic pants to put on over my jeans, a harness that was padded on the front, and a helmet. With all the gear on, I looked like an overturned turtle. Oh well. Another guy was going too and his wife had come up with him. She didn't want to go gliding out of fear, so I gave her my phone and she took pictures of me instead. She even took a video of me taking off, which I'll load later if I can, when I have a better internet connection. Gucci gave me a three-minute tutorial on what to do, and then he dragged the glider to the edge of the launch point, attached our harnesses to it with carabiners, and told me to hold onto his harness tightly. We stared running down the slope and suddenly the wind caught us and we were flying! It was the most incredible feeling in the world. Freedom and fear and amazement a rush of adrenaline and feeling cushioned by the wind under the glider's wings. We soared over treetops with wide views of the farmland and mountains below and around us. The ride lasted about ten minutes. It was mostly tame flying but in the last few minutes, Gucci asked me if I wanted to do some fun maneuvers. Yes! He angled the hang glider upwards until we stalled, then pointed it downwards and we were in free fall until our wings caught the wind again. Yikes! Then he veered the glider off to the right and left at various angles, taking us in a circle. Finally, I noticed the ground getting closer and then we were landing on a big grass lawn in the foothills. I really wanted to go back up and do it again! Hang gliding might be the coolest thing I've ever done. |
One more photo of majestic Milford Sound, courtesy of Amanda. The clouds never did clear up entirely but they did give the peaks a mysterious aura. |
The water was deep blackish-blue and glassy when we set off in our kayaks. I took the rear seat with the pedals that control the rudder while Amanda sat in front. It was her first time in a kayak and I thought she'd like the unobstructed view. Milford Sound is stunning, breathtaking, remarkable, mystical, gorgeous.... Pick an adjective. Huge mountains jut straight out of the water all around. Two channels indicate there's more to explore beyond those great stone monoliths but since the mountains hide the ocean, it feels incredibly secluded. I tried to imagine what early British explorers must have felt when they came upon this majestic place. The clouds kept moving and changing during our morning on the water. We paddled down one side, then across, then up the other, stopping to take photos of a waterfall. Amanda called the sheer rock faces the Cliffs of Insanity (from "The Princess Bride"). I eventually got the hang of steering with the pedals. Turning left and right was easy but going straight took a little more practice. We spotted fur seals swimming and sunning themselves on rocks. I stared and stared at our surroundings, trying to etch them forever in my memory. |
The day after our Southern Alps hikes, we went kayaking in Milford Sound. Our lodgings the night before could best be described as basic. We stayed in a backpackers' lodge with a community bathroom/shower room (one for boys, one for girls) and no frills whatsoever. It's about as close to camping as I get. The experience of kayaking in Milford Sound, however, was worth the bare-bones accommodations. Expect a few posts about the kayaking, with different photos. Just FYI. We got to the launch point just after 7am. The sun was barely visible and thick clouds still hung in the sky. Our guide, Gonzo, from Montana, handed out our gear, which included a set of woolly, stripped long underwear for everyone. We put these on over our bathing suits, followed by a fleece on top, then a rubbery kayak skirt, a yellow water-proof jacket, and finally a life jacket. Oh how glamorous we all look in those striped long John's! When we were all suited up, we got our paddles and dry bags, Gonzo gave us a quick kayak lesson, and we loaded up. |
When we went deeper into the wilderness for a few days, we entered a region of incredibly beautiful and dramatic scenery. This entire trip has been a vocabulary exercise, trying to find the right words to describe the stunning splendor and color and even texture of everything I see. Suffice it say, neither these photos nor descriptions fully do it justice, but even a weak attempt is better than nothing. Once we left Lake Manapouri, we headed into New Zealand's Southern Alps. The road was at the bottom of a narrow valley that sliced its winding way between immense mountains, which rose nearly vertically thousands of feet into the sky. I kept craning my neck to try to see their rocky peaks, which were often obscured by clouds. We did two hikes one day, the first along part of the Kepler Track, the second on the Routeburn Track. (This photo was taken as we entered the range where the Routeburn Track is located.) Amanda and I always end up at the back of the group on the hikes because we like to stop and take pictures of the plants. Could I be a closet botanist? We joke that when we get home, we're going to make and sell a calendar with our best NZ nature photos so we can write this trip off as a business expense. Ha. But seriously, how can you trek through such gorgeous landscapes and NOT take a thousand photos? First off, there are a zillion different types of fern, all amazingly green and cool-looking, then there are all the different mosses growing on the ground, on rocks, and on trees. The trail we walked on the Kepler Track was positively springy under our feet, thanks to all the moss. And don't even get me started on the dozens of plants that I've never seen in the States and now want to take home with me. Whenever we didn't have a guide around to ask, Amanda and I stared assigning our own names to some of the flora we saw. In particular, there was parsley moss (you can imagine why we called it that) and another moss that Amanda nicknamed Gimly's beard due to its dark reddish brown color, like that of the dwarf Gimly in the Lord of the Rings films. The first moss grows on rocks while the second was seen clinging to the sides of trees high up on the mountain. We also saw delicate white flowers called mountain lilies (actual name). Everywhere we looked was another vista or plant or mountain waiting to take our breath away. The only downside was the misty weather during our second hike. The clouds obscured what I'm sure was a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and valleys. Guess I'll just have to come back to see it. |
Just when I thought the scenery couldn't get any better nor our location any remoter, we left that beautiful sheep ranch across from Mt Cook and headed further south and west, eventually ending up at a motor lodge on the shores of Lake Manapouri. The view here was arguably even better. Green mountains ringed a turquoise blue lake, with a low hill island rising from its center. Clouds skittered across the mountain tops, occasionally letting the sun shine through just so. The whole effect was magical. Amanda and I went for a walk along the lake shore. We examined the multi-colored rocks at our feet and marveled at the landscape. We discovered two rope swings attached to sturdy branches of a big tree up from the beach and laughed as we swung out and twirled around, carefree. Later that evening, we gathered with the rest of the tour group for dinner in the motel's empty cafe. Our guides are real Jacks of all trades and make most of our meals. That night, they'd set out some hors d'oeuvres for us to nibble on before dinner. Wine was passed and poured. During a lull in the conversation, we started reading the wine bottle labels aloud. Somehow, I ended up as the primary label-reader. I channeled all of my high school drama class training to make them as entertaining as possible, although they didn't need much embellishment. One of the labels described the wine as "soft and supple." Ronan, the Irishman, latched onto that phrase and asked me to repeat it, which I did in what I tried to make a sultry voice. It instantly became an inside joke with the group, repeated over and over during the evening (and the trip). "This butter is quite soft and supple." Etc. Thanks to my excellent reading and analysis of the wine labels, I was challenged to write one of my own, for a fake wine. I haven't put it to paper yet, but I have some ideas in mind. Maybe I can get a side job writing wine labels when I get back home. They will all describe the product as "soft and supple," of course. |
This was the view out my window this morning at sunrise. We're staying on a remote sheep ranch on the banks of Lake Pukaki. The lake's color is difficult to pinpoint. Is it teal? Turquoise? Aqua marine? Whatever the name, the water is at once clear--a perfect reflective surface--and opaque. Out of the frame on the right towers powerful Mt Cook, called Aoraki in Maori, which means "cloud piercer." Today we hiked in its shadow and watched clouds swirl over and around the peak. Last night I woke up in the middle of the night, after the moon had risen and set. Orion the archer was hanging in the sky above the lake surrounded by more stars than I've seen since my parents took the family camping in the Rocky Mountains as a kid. I could see part of the Milky Way spread from one corner of my window to the other. Just as I was marveling at the breath-taking sight of it all, a shooting star flared in the sky next to Orion. With a contented sigh, I snuggled further under my blankets and fell back to sleep. I could get used to this. |
While in Auckland yesterday we went on a harbor cruise that, as the name implies, took us around the harbor, under a large bridge spanning a narrow bay entrance, and out to Rangitoto island, where we were allowed to briefly disembark. The weather was bright, sunny, and warm--perfect for sailing. This shot shows the Auckland downtown skyline and the Sky Tower. |
We got spectacular views of Auckland, the harbor, and the volcanic islands in the bay from the top of the Sky Tower in downtown Auckland. The three black lines running vertically through the view are used by base jumpers, who jump from near the top of the tower attached to a harness that slows them down just before they splat on the ground. The Sky Tower is the tallest building in the Southern Hemisphere at over 300 metres. |
The Green Dragon Inn is a small pub of sorts built specially for the tourist tours. It's in the same style and with the same level of detail as the rest of the structures, but with a ceiling height to accommodate non-Hobbit-sized folk. We were offered a complimentary, locally produced ale or ginger beer (soda) here and had a few minutes to wander around the inn. This doorway overlooked the lake and beyond it, the green where Bilbo celebrated his 111th birthday. |
Woven between the Hobbit holes are small garden patches and fruit trees growing all manner of produce. The Hobbiton gardeners keep everything in top shape although, unfortunately, no one actually eats the harvest except the birds! |
One of the many Hobbit dwellings nestled in the hillside at Hobbiton. Each one was carefully crafted and is carefully maintained with extreme attention to detail and to look as though it is really inhabited. (In reality, they are empty inside or used for storage.) The homes are in different scales to provide more versatility during filming. |
The Hobbit home behind me is Bag End, home to Bilbo Baggins and later his nephew Frodo. Two important adventures were begun here in Tolkien's novels. |
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Second attempt at posting photos from yesterday's hike up Mount Te Aroha. Looks like only one gets through at a time. Stay tuned.... |
Disclaimer: Internet on phones here isn't the greatest and it's taking forever to load these photos, so they may have to come in a separate message. We arrived this morning in New Zealand after a12-hour flight that had us cross the international date line. During that long flight I slept a several hours (thank you, Benadryl!) watched Thor 2 and Sherlock series III, and generally tried to not be bothered by the fact that the short, rather wide South Asian (Indian?) woman sitting next to me was leaning her arm and shoulder into me for most of the flight. Once in Auckland, we picked up our rental car, got some snacks at the grocery store, and headed south, all the while trying not to be weirded out by the fact that we were driving on the wrong side of the road. No accidents so far (touch wood) but I can't tell you how many times I attempted to hit the turn signal and set off the windshield wipers instead! We were quickly out of the city and passing through rolling green farmland bordered by diverse vegetation, from the scrubby to the tropical. Although New Zealand is known for its sheep, we saw mainly cows, grazing in fields next to surprise cafes in the middle of nowhere. After a couple hours on the road, we arrived at our destination: the village of Te Aroha. The village is dominated by its namesake mountain that rises protectively behind it from the plains. We donned our sneakers and headed up the slope for a hike. Over the trail, tall trees with frothy heads that looked like ferns stuck on sticks swayed in the wind while redwoods anchored themselves into the ground. The hike culminated in a lookout with a spectacular view of the valley and the hills beyond. In the afternoon, we continued south (and I continued to mistake the windshield wiper switch for the turn signal) to the town of Rotorua, where we promptly took off our shoes, laid down for a brief rest, then took turns washing the airplane staleness out of our hair and off our skin. I firmly believe the hot shower is one of the top five greatest inventions of all time. It's now late and we've walked all over Rotorua and I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to sleeping in this hotel bed tonight. It feels like so long since I left the U.S., even though we've only been here a day. If today was any indication, this trip is going to be amazing. |
No, we aren't in New Zealand yet. We had an all-day layover in Los Angeles and spent part of the afternoon on the Santa Monica pier. Surf, sand, a churro, and a gorgeous sunset. What more do you need? Next up: a long flight and an amazing destination. |
Getting ready to head out on the first leg of the grand odyssey! View of the tarmac at National Airport. |
