Tag Archives: surf

Fingal Head

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I’m back in New Zealand now, after a fab hol from my travels in Australia. I’ve returned a little bit browner (mostly my feet), a little bit blonder, a fair bit poorer, however richer in friends and surf boards. Yes I have my own board! All thanks to a generous, hunky Aussie guy (God bless Tinder). Now nothing can stop me owning the waves! Apart from maybe the impending New Zealand winter and the fact that I’m moving to Queenstown, which is 3.5 hours from the coast. Minor issues.

So Australia was my last foray in freedom before climbing back on the old 9-5 (or whatever hours anyone will give me), and settling down for a bit in NZ. I had it all planned out. Before Fingal came along and threw a spanner in my thoughts. Welcomed to stay in an amazing house, with lovely people in an incredible location, I got more than a little bit hooked on this Lake House lifestyle. Smoothies, surfing, sunshine, running, yoga and a canoe on the lake; I knew it would be a bit of a wrench to leave.

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It was a gorgeous location for running, and I worked out a nice 45 minute route before long: Starting by the lake in front of the house, running up along the white sand beach, up over the point past the lighthouse and back down alongside the river. The weather was unreal (ok maybe a bit too hot at some times of day), and made for picture-postcard photos on my second last run here. My last run along the beach was overcast and cloudy; lovely running conditions but not so stunning for photos, so I left the camera behind. Typically this was the day I saw a pod of dolphins dancing in the surf. It was such a magical encounter and I was glad to just breath in the awesome scene and watch them play. You’ll just have to take my word for it.

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After a few days in my latest paradise, it was time to get ready to leave. I had had many urges to stay and live the dream, somehow. But my plans in New Zealand still stood, including some pursuit-of-dreams plans which could mean big changes to my little life. And I’m sure there are more paradises waiting to be discovered on my upcoming journeys…I’ll let you know.

Piha3

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Last night I witnessed the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. I stood in the shallows, looking out to the golden, blue and pinky sky; to the surfers just bobbing on their boards, facing the same way as I, disappearing behind the huge 2-3m waves which swelled between them and me; these waves which grew and crashed and rushed towards me, diminishing with every metre they travelled until they lapped gently at my calves and the sun shone golden on the temporary frothy calm behind each one.

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I have seen some amazing spectacles on my travels so far: Machu Picchu; Caribbean beaches; Volcanic lagoons. However this is the first time an incredible sight has stirred such emotion in me. I felt like crying, or being sick, or something equally overdramatic. Maybe I only reacted like this because I had already been beaten down and battered; physically and clearly emotionally, by the scene I was now in awe of; I had just attempted surfing for the first time in New Zealand. 

 One of my intentions whilst in Piha was to learn to surf. After being here for one week of my total three, and having been surfing once, I have revised this aim to improving my surfing. Like maybe standing up on the board for more than a second. For many kiwis, surfing and the sea are what they have been brought up on. Not me. The sea kind of scares me; in fact I have recurring nightmares about big waves washing me away. But I’m the kind of woman who refuses to fear anything: confronting would-be intruders in the night (noisy pipes) with big spanners; ridding houses of large spiders; travelling the world alone. Trying to surf at New Zealand’s wildest beach is just my style.

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You’ve probably guessed how my first surf lesson went. I was just practicing catching waves in the white water (broken waves near the beach) and getting generally battered and bruised by the sea, my board, and swept scarily towards Lion Rock. And I really hurt my bum. But I’m not giving up! Totally intended to go for an early morning surf before brekkie today but after a bad night tossing and turning (probably more tidal wave dreams), I’ve had a lazy day, ending with an evening run to try and catch another sensational sun-down, this time on foot.

I left the hostel with a surge of the energy which had escaped me all day. Running my usual route through Piha, up hilly Garden Road to then turn to the beach, I spotted a track which I hadn’t used before, with many steep steps. I picked this route and with another miraculous energietic burst, turned back at the bottom of the steps and did them all again! I’m just mental, me like.

Once my lust for steps had been satisfied, I carried on to the beach, as the sunlight began to turn pinky-golden. Approaching the beach the sky was reflected perfectly in the creek which runs past Lion Rock to the sea.

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I had timed my run perfectly, the sunset was getting into full swing as I pranced across the sand. Again many walkers, swimmers and surfers had turned out for the daily treat. I saw a girl of around 6 with presumably her dad, surfing on the white water. She caught a wave perfectly to whoops, hugs and high-fives from her dad and I couldn’t help but beam. The peace and beauty was only broken by a little dog barking incessantly at it’s reflection in the mirror-like pools in the sand. I’ll let it off though, such amazing spectacles can bring about strange reactions after all.

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Piha

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I have many memories of Piha from my previous times in New Zealand as a child: the black sand burning your feet; the wild surf; waves crashing through ‘The Gap’; Lion Rock. So I was excited to return after 13 years, now I’m all grown up. I’m going to be here for the next 3 weeks, volunteering at a hostel for free accommodation. I may have hit the location jackpot here, especially compared to my previous volunteering location; lacking Latacunga. Ok so Piha may be lacking a few things: a bar which stays open after dark; a supermarket; a cashpoint… But it really does make up for these shortcomings in natural beauty and outdoor opportunities. Thanks to this there is a steady stream of travellers, surfies, weekenders and more which keep the place alive and vibrant.

Piha is renowned in New Zealand as a top surf spot. It is also known for the dangerously strong currents and rips which pull surfers, swimmers and kids in dinghys out to sea. So much drama goes down on the black sands in fact, a TV series ‘Piha Rescue’ has been established, documenting the everyday heroics of the Piha Surf Life-Savers. I’m under strict instructions from my family to swim between the flags whilst wearing my best bikini, just incase I somehow end a starring role.

On my first morning in Piha I set my alarm with time for a quick run before I started work at the hostel. The skies were blue and the sun sparkled on the morning dew. I made my way to the South Beach along the little roads which are dotted with enviable holiday baches. My grandparents used to have a bach here, which I passed on the same road as the hostel. It still has the name my grandad carved from wood hung on the gate, Te Arawhata; ‘steps’, in Maori.

I made it to the beach feeling fresh and invigorated, though maybe not so much as the surfers, who were catching the first waves of the day on a sparkly sea. South Beach is dominated by a majestic beast, known as Lion Rock: a huge rock formation which looks like a a lion, keeping guard of Piha and looking out to sea. It is just as I remember it as a child and this time it was lit by a magical morning glint.

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After a short run down the beach I turned and headed back the hostel, ready for my first day of work, feeling energised and very happy to be here.

Huanchaco

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Mancora chewed me up and spat me out; before I had a chance to sober up I was on a night bus heading South. That place is a bottomless pit, albeit a very fun bottomless pit with lots of lovely people inside. It’s a good job I’m on a schedule at the moment, working my way down to Lima for a flight on Monday. Otherwise you may have found me still there next month; propping up/dancing on the bar, having accepted a job, paid in bunk bed and liquid form.

After 11 hours on that night bus, with a barely reclining seat, sandwiched between the window and a fat man, motivation was also struggling to find me in Huanchaco, my next stop. At least I’d had a seat this time (my seatless night bus from The Ecuadorian border to Mancora is really up there as a pinnacle of low points on my trip). But after a lazy day, chilling on the beach rather than venturing into the desert to visit ruins, an evening run on the beach really sorted me out and stopped me feeling sorry for myself.

Huanchaco is another coastal town, favoured by Peruvians, pelicans and a handful of travellers. The beach was still buzzing as I headed out whilst the sunlight started to die; many families from the nearby city of Trujillo and surrounding areas visit Huanchaco for the sun, sea and ceviche. Built on the coast of the Sechura desert, the heat is pretty searing during the day. Early evening was the perfect time to work up a sweat on the sand. It wasn’t such the meditative, primal kind of beach run I have enjoyed in places like Tayrona, Colombia or Canoa, Ecuador. I needed my wits about me, concentrating on the ground to avoid the many stones and children littering the beach.

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Huanchaco is a fishing town, where the fisherman favour traditional canoes made from reeds. The boats are all lined up against the wall of the beach, creating silhouettes which pointed up at the sky like tall, erect bananas. I also found this Pelican chilling, feeling pangs of nostalgia when I thought back to the same thing happening on my very first run in South America, in Lima back in October last year.

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As I got further around the beach, the crowds were thinning. I enjoyed watching the surfers catch the last few waves of the day, the Pelicans their last few fish. After enough post-night bus exertion I retired back to the hostel and to a bunk bed sleep I felt I’d really earned.

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