Some Quick Stories from the Field

Dead Sheep Pass

Most of the territory that we were studying was farmland. This meant walking through lost of cow and sheep pastures. The first couple of days, we tried to avoid stepping in the huge amounts of cow and sheep dung. But by the end of the week, we were covered in it. At one point, I was lying on my pack on top of a pile of cow dung simultaneously trying to take measurements from a limestone bed and spit out whatever sort of animal excrement had made it into my mouth. 

There were also dozens and dozens of dead sheep. I don't know what was killing them all, but after watching their behavior, I wouldn't be surprised if they were dying from lack of intelligence. Decomposing sheep smell bad, so you can imagine how unlucky we all were to have to walk through one in order to get to a certain rock formation. Those of us with sufficient balance and shoe tread managed to get away with only some rotting sheep carcass and maggots on our hands. Those less fortunate ended up with a mixture maggots, wool and three week old rotting flesh all over their front or back. 

Doctor Warwick Prebble

Doctor Prebble, or Warwick as he prefers to be called, has been studying geology for over fifty years and has been a lecturer on this field trip for 28 years. I can't begin to fathom how deep this man's knowledge is in all things related to field geology. Warwick blends both the new high tech gear with the old low tech gear. He caries with him a GPS unit as well as some sort of clinometer that looks as if it was stolen from Marco Polo. While out in the field with us, Warwick seemingly wore the same combination of cotton cargo shorts and a light blue button down shirt. This left me wondering if his cabin had a closet filled with seven cartoonishly similar sets of shirts and shorts for the week or if some holy/geological force keeps him completely dry and clean, regardless of the conditions. 

This year was bittersweet as it was Warwick's last year of coming on the Port Waikato trip. After 28 years, Warwick is retiring and looking to do, "other things." I know when retirees say that, they usually mean that they just want to sit around and relax, but for some reason I keep picturing Warwick hiking around Greenland or Patagonia in his cotton shorts and blue shirt. 

That Was Awesome

Seven full days of running around the New Zealand countryside with a clipboard, a hammer and a compass. It doesn't get much better than that. Actually it was better than that because along with all of the geology students, there were five very smart and enthusiastic geology professors with bigger and better hammers running around with us. A typical day went something like this:

6:00: wake up, shower, get breakfast, make lunch

8:00: get on the bus to go to field location

8:30-5:00: geology stuff

5:00: back to camp, shower, unpack field gear

6:00: dinner

8:00: evening lectures

The weather was pretty good at first, but then it got really, really bad. After an hour and a half of hiking on the fourth day, we climbed down a cliff to study some amazing formations in a secluded cove. It was raining most of the morning, but by mid-day the skies had opened up and the rain was so heavy that you could barely see fifteen feet in-front of yourself. We backed away from the cliff because big boulders of basalt and limestone were falling off onto the beach. The lecturers gave up trying to teach anything because nobody could hear anything they were saying over the rain. 

We had to take a couple of detours on the way back because our path had been flooded or the rivers we crossed were dangerously high. It was amazing. 

Unfortunately, this same storm cause flash flooding of a nearby river where some high school students were canyoning. Seven of the students and a teacher were killed when the river to quickly for them to get to higher ground. Our field trip was organized and run by professors with over a hundred years of field experience with them. At no point did I fear for my own personal safety. I can't imagine what it must have been like to have been a part of that canyoning group. Even those who survived are left with the awful experience of watching their classmates swept away by a freak flood. 

It's Different Here: Part 5

This is a double post.

1. They really don't use hotdog buns here. In fact, hotdogs aren't that common. Sausages are much more common. And they put the sausages in a slice of bread. 

2. Outlets are different. I knew the shape of the plug would be different, but outlets here also have switches. For every outlet, there is a switch right next to it. Switches are different here. Up is off and down is on. They are also rounder and much flatter. I like it.

It's Different Here: Part 4

Paper here is different. It's bigger, (A4 sized) and it usually feels a little thicker. Sometimes the extra long page is nice, but it means that everything else has to be bigger: binders, folders, drawers, basically everything paper related. 

The really weird part about the paper story is that they use two-hole punches instead of three. This seems silly because the giant A4 sized page is left hanging on two holes that are pretty close together. What if one rips? I'm not sure what the benefit of the two hole punch is yet, but it makes me wonder if people from other countries wonder why Americans insist on that extra third hole.

It's Different Here: Part 3

Police officers don't carry guns in New Zealand. I guess they don't in England either. I'm not sure exactly what to think of that. It seems like a good thing, but I think they can get away with it because they have such a super low crime rate. All police officers wear a stab proof and sometimes bullet proof vest all the time though. 

It's Different Here: Part 2

There really isn't stick deodorant here in New Zealand. I've always been on the fence about the use of deodorant and I generally don't use it if I don't have to. When I found myself in a position where I needed to use deodorant, I went to the pharmacy to buy some. To my surprise, they only have the roll-on kind. While I've heard of roll-on deodorant, I had never actually seen it until I was in this New Zealand pharmacy. 

When I commented on this to my New Zealand flatmates, they were surprised that I had never seen the roll-on kind and they themselves had never seen or heard of stick deodorant. Crazy. 

It's Different Here: Part 1

There is no such thing as a yellow traffic light. They call yellow traffic lights "orange" here. 

I checked to make sure the color yellow actually exists and it's not just considered a light orange or something. It does exist. 

DINOSAURS!!!

Next week I will be staying at the lovely Port Waikato School Camp with the rest of my field geology class. I get to spend seven days wandering around the New Zealand countryside with a compass and a hammer as I "learn" important field geology skills. I'm just kidding about the quotes around "learn", I'm sure I will actually learn quite a bit. 

This field geology course is worth as many credits as any other course, but it only meets once for the week long trip. We do have to pay $150 for transportation and food which is kind of steep for me, but it turns out that the school hires a professional chef to do all of the catering. She is even going to use lactose free milk for my meals. Isn't that nice?

I am most excited about the days where we will be mapping the landscape by identifying biostratigraphic markers from the Jurassic period. That means dinosaur bones. Well, not actual dinosaur bones, more like coral and bivalves and things like that, but they were around when dinosaurs were around. 

While I'm gone, my blog will automatically post a entry that I have written in advance. I'm calling the series: It's Different Here.

Dinosaurs, how cool is that?

Blue Lake - The Journey to Blue Lake

Half-way through my stay in Tongariro National Park, I spent the night at Waihohonu Hut. Waihohonu Hut is the closest hut to the summit of Mount Tongariro and is located a couple of hours away from Blue Lake. Blue Lake is really just a large puddle or small pond that sits in the saddle between Mount Tongariro and Mount Ngauruhoe. Having arrived at the hut a few hours earlier than I expected, I decided to make the trip to Blue Lake. The weather wasn't looking great, but it had been cloudy all day, so I figured the rain would have already started if it was going to rain at all. 

On my way to the lake, I took my time looking at the interesting rock formations that were a result of explosive volcanic activity some decades ago. People kept commenting on how these formations make you feel like you are walking on the moon. None of these people had been to the moon which I'm sure looked nothing like those rocks, so I don't know why they weren't satisfied with just saying the rock formations were really interesting and impressive. 

An hour into the two hour trip, it started to sprinkle. It was almost a mist and I had my rain gear, so I wasn't concerned at all. I even took the time to take this picture of myself. 

As I started to make the final steep ascent to Blue Lake, the rain started to pick up and the wind was becoming an issue. I climbed up the trail using both arms and both legs as the weather grew increasingly worse. I considered turning back several times as I crouched behind a big rock to wait for a large gust of wind and rain to pass over.  I was determined to see the famous Blue Lake though, so I kept hiking upward. 

Finally, I arrived at the smallest lake I have ever seen. It was probably no more than two feet deep and maybe twenty feet across. The wind was blowing so hard that I struggled to stand up straight as I took out my camera. The rain wasn't too heavy, but it hurt as it was propelled by the strong, "alpine" gusts. I made it though and I'm glad I did. 

I was happy to have made the trip, but the most frustrating part is how nice the picture looks. It doesn't look like great weather, but it still looks like a relatively calm day. You don't see any of the rain that was stinging my face or the strong wind that was actually moving little scoria stones around on the ground. I really like my camera, but my next one will definitely have a "crappy weather" setting that shows all of the rain and maybe puts in a little digital windsock to show how strong the wind is. 

Cricket is Kind of Creepy

I took this photo of the Auckland Museum a few weeks ago. The museum is set inside a really pretty park that covers an old volcano. There are a bunch of sports fields surrounding the museum and on weekends, there are usually a bunch of cricket games. 

I've never seen cricket played in real life before so it's a little weird to see men dressed up in really white clothes playing some ball game. But beyond my unfamiliarity with the game, the whole scene was a little unsettling for me. There were dozens of these guys in white walking around this field. With all of them wearing the same crisp white uniform, it made me think that they all had the exact same intention like some sort of cricket cult. They might all want to play cricket, or they might all want to do something more sinister, like kill. 

The Big Volcano

I just got back from 8 days in Tongariro National Park. It was a great trip but being 8 days and all, I think I might just relate a couple of stories that are most memorable to me. 

The first day was probably the biggest. I got up early and made an ascent of Mt. Ruapehu, New Zealand's largest active volcano. I didn't really climb much of the mountain, I hitched a ride up to a ski resort and from there, I rode the chairlift up about 25 minutes. Without knowing much about the mountain, I took the "marked route" to the top. The long, steep trail to the peak was marked, but as I climbed up, I started to get the impression that I wasn't on the path of least resistance.  When I did reach the peak I realized that I was a few hours away from the place I wanted to be. A quick 3-hour walk across the top and I was at my destination, Crater Lake. It was really cool to see, but it's name pretty much describes what it is. 

On my way back down the mountain, I found myself a little lost and a little alone. In the distance I saw a little trail marker so I made my way down into the valley toward the white marker. The footing was pretty tricky and little rockslides kept rushing down below me, but I finally made it to the marker. Unfortunately, the marker was actually just some white pole that someone had thrown down into the valley. I started to feel a little anxious about how late it was and how alone I was and all of the sudden the boulder I was standing on tilted forward sending me head first into another rock. 

Having been in several bike accidents I am accustomed to having my head in a helmet when I slam it against something hard. Because of this, I initially thought to myself, "thank God I was wearing my helmet." Then a wave of pain shot through my head and I realized I wasn't wearing my helmet. I'm okay though. I got up  and worked my way down the mountain, arriving at the hut just before nightfall.

ALWAYS WEAR A HELMET