As you all well know, the phrase ‘a boys weekend’ is usually a byword for unprecedented levels of hedonism, outrageous behaviour better practiced by teenagers and/or morons, scantily-clad young ladies and loud music, or the death of wildlife.
You can imagine my disappointment when it was all rather civilised.
At one stage someone offered me a CUP OF TEA for christssakes.
I don’t know what in the hell to say. What has happened to the best of Kiwi masculinity? Whither the sitting up till 3am drinking? Whither the starting drinking before noon? Whither the getting loaded on kava and wandering around the alpine forest looking at flora? Whither the watching ultraviolent films about football hooligans and calling each other a foul name for a beautiful thing?
Whither the masculinity that once prevented me from using the word ‘whither’?
Nah, to be honest, none of the above things happened. None. None at all. There was also no burping, farting, friendly abuse, jokes at others expense, whining about hangovers, steak dinners or near-misses on vomiting out of the windows of a car hurtling up mountain roads.
But having been a fan of the central north’s finest landscape, the mountain, there’s no way I could turn down hanging out in a lodge, drinking beer/whisky in extreme moderation and pretending to be able to talk about skiing like I actually know how, between conversations about art and literature. To be honest, I prefer my water in the ocean, full of potentially dangerous/bitey animals, and moving not frozen, but to each their own.
As it was, instead of getting onto the slopes a few of us hung out near Ohakune and didn’t spend the heaps of $$ required to make it onto the “snow”. I may have mentioned in the past that as my discretionary spending for this (and probably next) year was squandered on scuba gear before I left Melbourne, Kapiti Island is likely to be the next domestic sporting trip. Buying or renting ski gear would drag me into ‘profligate’ territory. Buying a surround-sound amp was close enough. Ah, excessive consumption...
And damn that Ruapehu is a great place to visit. Ignoring the carbon-loaded atmosphere we contributed too by jaunting about the place self-satisfying with scenery, it’s one of those places you really have to get to when you can.
Over the years I’ve been past the mountain on the desert road many times, but there’s something really satisfying about setting foot on truly majestic things, and walking all over them potentially damaging the environment.
To be honest the Department of Conservation seems to be doing a great job maintaining the various walkways and the like, I’ll admit to thinking seriously about doing better and longer day trips during the summer for example. What impressed me most was just the sheer variety of plant-life clinging to the mountain in places, and flourishing in others. What didn’t impress me was the near-complete absence of bird-life. It is spooky as all hell.
In Oz, we had Rosella’s and Rainbow Lorikeets living in the tree outside my flat. There was a flock of Myna’s that used to compete for the space, and every day the parrots would put on a ritual display of fighting them off. Then there were the bats that lived in the botanic gardens and would fly over the house every day at dusk.
But in the bush in New Zealand? Cicada’s in the summer is what I remember most of all. Maybe the occasional Tui. When I stayed with a girlfriend in Central Victoria, there used to be flocks of dozens and dozens of Cockatoo flying over every single morning. Noisy buggers they were too.
Here over the weekend? Nada, no birds at all governor.
My other impression was the way that in large part the Mountain is covered in weird, little plants. So what you have is a spanking great pile of rock, and a contrast to itty-bitty lichens, small daisies, miniature conifers, stuff like that. Fascinating, and needless to say, Wellington is something of a contrast again.
The good news is that here in the city you can actually get a decent meal in the middle of the day, and more shops are open to keep us all happy on the crappy days. Actually, speaking of which, I’m trying to find a place that sells decent and relatively fresh seafood. Any suggestions? That place on Cuba Street is all I’ve seen so far, and I need some fresh whole squid. Tips welcome.
PS The first paragraph had to be reworded. If i have to explain, you won't understand.