Swagman #24 - Kaikoura, New Zealand

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In a town with roughly the same population as a Manhattan apartment building, the marine related activities are staggering. From crayfish to killer whales, you can have a gander at any link in the marine food chain. Seals lay out on sunny shore rocks like drunken tourists. A short boat ride away from shore can land you in the middle of up to 300 curious dusky dolphins. A family of orcas occasionally saunter by. The water looks like bright blue dye and the chain of frost tipped mountains are almost too Disney. It's like being in the ultimate aquarium. If it can be found in the ocean, chances are it can be seen in Kaikoura. A mermaid sighting would probably wind up in the "Oh, by the way" section of the newspaper. Surely this is where the Loch Ness Monster spends her summers.

And there is almost no one there. Or maybe it just seems that way because everyone is out in the water on dolphin tours, whale watch, sea adventures or getting poked around in shark cages. Or it could be because there is little to do in Kaikoura aside from these things. Somehow the moniker of New Zealand being the adrenaline capital of the world has created the illusion that if you're not doing something outrageous, well, then you're not experiencing New Zealand. There certainly is no better place to measure your courage or sense of adventure, but the country also has some of the most relaxing beaches and serene locales. It's like having a cozy haven when you are coming down from the buzz.

There is not much to the town, and rightfully so. In a place this visually remarkable even something as seemingly insignificant as a new street sign could be like one of those "happy little trees" the painter Bob Ross used to add as a final stroke that would ultimately ruin an otherwise beautiful landscape. There are the obligatory hostels, the cafes, and the grocery, but miraculously the greasy hand of instant gratification consumerism seems to have passed over without incident.

I arrived in Kaikoura under a perfect sky. I had boarded a bus in Picton immediately after stepping off of the ferry from Wellington. The ride was short but exciting. Our elderly driver navigated the curves with an instinctive skill while the passengers swayed like metronomes. He stopped just outside of town so that we could take pictures of some seals posing on the rocks and so that he could have a cigarette.

"We might be a few minutes late," he said. "But what do ya got if you can't spare a few minutes for something like this?" He was one of those people that you just want to instantly know and be friends with, passing over the boring banter of introductions.

He let us off in the center of town and I immediately set out for a place to set up camp. My pack had gotten significantly heavier over the previous month. I had collected numerous books that I intended to keep, and could have effectively started a catalog system to keep track of everything. Every time I opened my pack it was like that gag with the fake snakes that pop out of the nuts container. But I only had a short time left to go, so I felt no need in holding my own personal yard sale.

I set up my tent among a cluster of others at a nearby caravan park and spent the day wandering around and reading. I had booked myself on a dolphin cruise for the following day so I could get out into the water. There was some excitement because I had never seen dolphins before, at least not outside of a tank where trainers made them moonwalk in front of crowds for fish. Soon the sun dipped down and I was breathing through yawns, because you learn to live by the sunlight when you camp for an extended amount of time. It's like when you're a kid playing outside with friends - it's automatic game over when the sun goes down.

There is something slightly depressing about sleeping alone in a tent after you have shared it with others for awhile. It seems larger but ultimately void, like a living room after a party. It's strange when you go out for drinks with other travelers, because eventually they return to their hostel bed and you must retire to your triangle of fabric. It also doesn't help when the people in the tent next to you are loudly having sex for the better part of the night, as my neighbors were. Eventually I succumbed to listening to music through earphones, which did not completely drown out the sound so much as provide tolerable background music. Que sera. Things would become dull if they were easy.

Dolphin Encounter delivered as advertised, and for several wonderful hours I watched as an unbelievable amount of the animals circled our boat and leapt around us. I had opted out of actually swimming with them, which was a bit of a personal disappointment because if you want to do it, Kaikoura is the place. But I couldn't help but watch with a grin as those that had paid the extra $60 squeezed into wet suits, dropped into the water and swam around making strange noises in an attempt to draw the dolphins' interest. Once the dolphins swam away, usually after a few minutes, everyone was summoned to swim quickly to the boat, whereupon we would jet off to their new location and everyone would have to jump back in and repeat the procedure again.

I am sure their experience was amazing, and may have even surpassed mine. But it also seemed arduous, and I had come to Kaikoura to relax.


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