Tinder, Hunting, and the Police Down Under

While watching music in a basement pub, I get the brilliant idea to use Tinder in an attempt to find a local that might be willing to show us around the next day!

Once cozy in my bed with a nice wine buzz, I begin swiping right with vigor, hoping for a quick response. Lucky for me, a very attractive lad named Tom catches the bait and agrees to pick us up from the hostel in the morning.

Bright and early, just as planned, Emma and I find Tom waiting in the parking lot. We greet each other; everyone seems a little unsure. We voluntarily get into his car.

Tom is tall and handsome with bright blue eyes and a beard – my kind of guy. He is born and raised in this little town - not my kind of guy. 

He is a carpenter.

This whole situation is awkward, but because I put all three of us here, I feel an obligation to ease any tension. I’m talking a lot, desperately trying to find something any of us have in common – normally, I can achieve this quickly. Not with Tom.

I ask him lots of questions about what it is like living in Nelson. He says he doesn’t really like it.

I ask why he doesn’t leave. He doesn’t know.

I ask what he likes about it. He says, “Nothing really. I don’t know.”

I ask what we should see. He says, “There isn’t really anything to see. I don’t know.”

He hasn’t traveled, but that is okay. He says he is interested in traveling and his father is from Boston.

I’m pretty sure he thinks I am strange and he is probably regretting his decision to do this. Or maybe he’s just awkward with women. Or maybe he is just always awkward.

I try asking him about the things he builds.

He brings us to a couple of beaches and overlooks. I take some pictures.

Tom says now, "This is really awkward."

After a few hours, Tom drives us to the edge of town where we should be able to get a ride to our next destination. We bid farewell.

“Thanks for showing us around! I really appreciate it! You should travel! I think you are extremely attractive and we’d make beautiful babies, but you have no fire!” I say as he pulls away. (Half of that actually happened in a slightly alcohol-induced, follow-up text from me to him. I might be the worst. Another one gets away!)

Emma and I put our bags on the ground and hold our thumbs up high.

After some time, a guy named Steve pulls over to give us a ride. He is leaving town to go camping by himself for the night and can drive us halfway to Havelock where he needs to stop at a grocery store – this is all very suspicious and sounds like the perfect setup for a murder! But, we are now experienced hitchhikers with one successful experience the day before, so we’re good, right?

Steve is originally from England. When he was two, his family moved to New Zealand. (That’s all I remember about him.)

The ride is uneventful and Steve drops us off in Havelock and wishes us luck. We thank him.

Emma and I walk to the edge of town and stick our thumbs out.

It starts raining.

A few minutes pass and a car pulls over to save us! An Asian man in his fifties jumps out of the passenger side (on the left) with a huge smile. He greets us warmly and opens the trunk for our bags.

“You don’t want to be stuck out here in the rain! Where are you heading?” he asks.

Rodney and his wife, Angie, are from Auckland but are on the South Island for a conference. He works at the university. They are staying in Blenheim – the town we are trying to get to! Rodney is very excited that we are hitchhiking and tells us about how he used to hitchhike too.

They want to stop in a little town called Renwick for a hunting competition and ask if that is okay.

Of course! This is exactly the kind of thing we want to experience!

We arrive at the hunting competition. It is hosted in the parking lot of a country-type bar.

Throughout the parking lot, goats, pigs, and deer are gutted and hanging to be judged for the competition; sausages are cooking on grills; and country music is playing. People are wearing camouflage and drinking beer. Children are running around. I feel like I could easily be anywhere in the United States – I’ve seen this before. They tell us, "This is real New Zealand."

Angie and Rodney wanted me to get my picture with these guys.

The cute animals, like rabbits and possums, are hanging in the “kiddie area”. Next to the cart of dangling carcasses are crates containing live piglets, possums, and rabbits for the kids to touch and hold. I find the irony hilarious.

Emma is excited to hold a possum!

After eating some local sausage and taking pictures, we continue on our way. Dusk is coming fast, and even though we were planning to stay in Blenheim, Rodney and Angie think we should go farther to Kaikoura.

They feel confident that we will find a ride the rest of the way before dark, so they drop us off at the edge of town, but close enough to where we can walk to a hostel if we aren’t picked up in time.

This is one of the main rules of hitching: DO NOT HITCHHIKE IN THE DARK!

No, don’t.

We’re gambling now. The sun is still shining but it’s winter and it will get dark fast.

How long we should wait? How far away is Kaikoura? Less than two hours. If we find a ride now, will it be dark before we arrive?

Car after car passes and we’re watching the sun. We are definitely getting closer to walking back to find a place to stay but the encouragement from Angie and Rodney keeps us going. They were so optimistic!

Everyone is driving past.  Why isn’t anyone stopping? We look so clean! And sane!

Just as we’re about to give up hope, an SUV pulls over. A man gets out and opens the back of the car for our bags.

Now that split second of judging his character kicks in, especially because we are chancing the dark.

Everything about him seems all right and we really want to get to our destination.

We have had so much luck. So… we get in.

His name is Tony and he has spent a long weekend in Picton with his kids. He is driving home to Christchurch but he can drop us off at our hostel in Kaikoura.

He studied geology and geography in college and he teaches us about the landscapes in depth as we drive through the hills. The area is more barren than I had pictured for New Zealand. I thought that the whole country consisted of bright green, rolling hills speckled with sheep and hobbits.

Not here - it is brown and dry.

I kind of notice that Tony is driving fast, but I think it is associated the winding road that I’m not used to. After not too long, the sun sets and we are driving through the dark. We can’t see the landscape anymore.

By this point, I’m feeling comfortable enough with Tony. He seems intelligent and kind and I’m not worried about the darkness. Besides, there is nothing we can do about it now.

While in the middle of an interesting conversation about earthquakes, flashing lights come on behind us. Tony suddenly seems very stressed out. I feel tense.

He pulls the car over and the cop pulls up behind us.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and runs out of the car.

What is happening?

I look out the window and see Tony run up to the cop car.

He pulls the door open.

And.

He gets in. He gets into the cop car.

And we’re sitting in this car alone. In the middle of nowhere.

In the dark.

Tony, our driver, has just gotten into the cop car.

This does not happen in the United States. In the United States, you NEVER get out of your car! You NEVER approach the officer’s car! And you definitely NEVER GET INTO THE OFFICER’S CAR IN A PANIC!

OH MY GOD! WHAT IS HAPPENING?

Emma and I are sitting in this man’s car. She says she noticed that he was driving really fast and had been watching his speedometer.

I say that you can't get into an officer's car in the United States. This alone scares me.

There is nothing we can do, so we just have to wait there.

After some time, Tony comes back and gets into the car with us. He is kind of frantic. This is a holiday weekend and Tony tells us that they lower the speed limit for that but he forgot.

Eventually, the officer comes up to the car. He seems gentle; he is smiling.

His personality is light and he is trying to make Tony feel better. There is no hostility between the men. Tony is definitely stressed as we find out that he got a speeding ticket a couple days earlier and now he will most certainly lose his license.

The officer seems most concerned about the fact that speeding can get someone killed.

Tony says he didn’t mean to, but he wasn’t paying attention because we were talking.

He gives him a ticket (this seems to be nonnegotiable). The officer looks in at me and says with a smile, “Make sure he doesn’t speed anymore!” and then tells us to be careful and have a good night.

The entire mood of the car has changed. Tony is so stressed and I am tense because, I feel like it’s my fault – it’s not my fault!

I’m not sure what to do now. Should we talk like nothing happened? Should we talk about what happened? Should I be quiet? Should I apologize?

I tell him that in the United States, you are not allowed to leave your car when you get pulled over. You can barely reach into your glove box to get your insurance and registration.

Tony tells me that cops don’t carry guns in New Zealand. He says that guns, besides hunting rifles, are not legal there, so it isn't an issue. (This is just what he told me and I have not fact-checked it.)

Tony is a good host and holds it together. He drives us all the way to our hostel.

We thank him profusely. I hold myself back from apologizing for the speeding ticket. I know it’s not my fault, even though I feel like it is.

We walk into the Albatross Backpacker and the receptionist says we have arrived just in time for dinner.

It feels like home and I am encouraged by the painting I see on the wall:

For another day, we can still believe in humanity. And we can go to sleep knowing that we are on the adventure of our lives. 

**I just want to mention that the animals hunted have all been introduced to New Zealand and are invasive. This means that the animals are not from there and the presence causes significant damage to the ecosystem. The hunting of these species supports the effort to eradicate these invasive pests from New Zealand in an attempt to restore the health of the environment.