Day Three in NZ: Cape Reinga and Ninety Mile Beach

On the third morning of my New Zealand adventure, I watched the sunrise over the Bay of Islands. Onboard a bus, which was only stopping for a minute to pick up a couple of passengers, I jumped off and ran to the water to get the picture. As fast as I could, I got back on the bus before it took off again! The best way to start a day! For a picture!

Heading north towards Cape Reinga, I found myself thinking once again: “Look at me! Here I am! How did I do this?!”  

I am truly addicted to the beauty of the just-do-it-without-a-plan-traveling. Where is this bus taking me? Where am I sleeping tonight?

I need these things. I choose these risks and I must live with the consequences! I’m just going to do what I’m supposed to do; meet the people I'm supposed to meet. I've traveled all this way but it is the experience that I'm after! This life!

I am addicted to pushing comfort zones and doing the things that scare me so much that just the thought makes me throw up a little: skydiving, flying to foreign countries alone, stand-up comedy, epic bike journeys across the country, moving to places where I don't know anyone, and sharing my writing. I can’t stop. I hate myself for it. I love myself for it.

Anyway, Cape Reinga is considered the northernmost point of New Zealand, but a little Googling, or just looking at a map, will let you know that is not quite accurate. The Maori consider this location to be where the spirits of the dead meet the underworld. This is also the location where the Pacific Ocean, to the east, meets the Tasman Sea, to the west. I found it to be energetically intense. I wanted to be there alone. It was also windy. 

After exploring Cape Reinga, the bus brought me to Ninety Mile Beach. As it turns out, this beach is not even 90 miles long, as the name would seem to suggest. It is more like 55 miles (roughly-ish 90 kilometers). That seems like an error that should've been corrected somewhere along the line.

The bus let some of the passengers attempt sandboarding down the duneshere. Because I am fearful of going face-first down a sand dune at high speeds on a body board, I was not interested in partaking in this activity.  I don’t regret my decision; it’s just not my thing.

After watching the crazies speed down the sand without any serious injuries resulting, the bus drove on the 90 Mile Beach; speeding on the sand, maintaining 90 km/hour. With some simple arithmetic, we can figure out that we drove for about an hour! This beach is a recognized, public highway. This is kind of terrifying and legal. I sat in the front seat so that I could look out the large window. All I could think was, “This would never happen in the US!”

Sometimes, the bus would hit unexpected bumps in the sand and I would go flying out of my seat. When it came time for the bus to exit the beach, the driver informed me that if that sand wasn’t just right, and he needed to slow down for any reason, we would sink and get stuck. He drove in circles a bunch of times testing the sand’s hardness as well as waiting to make sure no other cars would potentially be in our way as we attempted to exit. When all was clear, we sped off the beach through a narrow path.

We made it! Anticlimactic!

The following day, I returned to Auckland. My new-friend, Philip, invited me to have dinner at his parents’ house for the evening. I told them my stories, ate pizza, and drank beer. Just like home.

His father said something to me that evening which made my whole being swell with a sense of achievement: "You've traveled a lot for an American."

Look at me! Seriously! There I was! I didn’t feel alone! And I didn’t feel lost! And I don't think that I was.

To quote one of my favorite authors, dear Vonnegut: “If this isn’t happiness, I don’t know what is.”