Cave Camping

This weekend I was planning on camping with a group of students in the Catlins, a series of beautiful and peaceful beaches a two hour drive south of Dunedin. Due to the rainy forecast, however, we decided to go to Long Beach, just 20 minutes away, so we could retreat back to town if the weather got "dodgy." Logan, the fire-twirler and chief social coordinator among the students, showed us to a huge cave a 15 minute walk down the beach from where we parked. Apparently the cave was used frequently by campers and had hosted massive rave parties with hundreds of people in the past. With the exception of a banana peel or two, I was surprised to find the cave remarkably pristine.

The other students were not of the backpacking sort, so we ended up making two trips from the cars lugging a grill, chips and candy, Logan's fire performance equipment, and loads of alcohol. I didn't complain about the grill, however, because I was able to use it to cook up some steak for burritos. The others piled on sausages, mushrooms, and zucchini, and we had quite a feast.

At this point it was getting dark and drizzly, so we wanted to make a fire. Being the only one there with any outdoors experience, I found what I thought were some semi-dry sticks and some soggy newspaper and constructed the typical kindling pyramid I had done many times before. I wasn't able to get a fire going within ten minutes however, and not wanting to be that stubborn purist that everyone hates, I yielded to Logan's suggestion that we pour onto the kindling some of the jet fuel he uses in his pyrotechnics acts. I nearly burned my hand off when the pile burst into flames.

With short breaks for Logan's performance and cave exploring, we relaxed around the fire for the rest of the evening, but the dynamics were significantly different and rather disappointing compared to what I was used to during a Williams WOOLF trip. No one seemed interested in playing any of the usual campfire games--to my utter surprise Mafia failed miserably; after twenty minutes people were just no longer interested. There weren't any interesting philosophical discussions or confessions or ghost stories. Nonetheless plenty of marshmallow roasting and other miscellanious fire cooking (bananas with chocolate and kumara) occurred. At around 1:30 AM we noticed some bright lights coming towards us. Those hoping for a bit of excitement were disappointed to find that it was just a couple friendly guys in a 4-wheel drive jeep plus a dog running behind.

It rained off and on during the night, and while the cave provided welcome shelter it was too large to feel cozy exactly. In the morning I made grilled pineapple, which wasn't any better than un-grilled, and others cooked eggs and bread and more sausages. I walked along the beach in the rain and saw four large sailboats out in the ocean as well as some otherworldly and very large kelp washed up on shore.

We arrived back in Dunedin mid-afternoon on Saturday, and since the rain had stopped I went out exploring around town and happened across an absolute goldmine of well-groomed trails along Ross Creek, just a ten minute walk from Carrington College. The trails were home to an orienteering course of the Dunedin Orienteering Club. In contrast to the other trails I had been walking on near town, which were all very steep indeed, these were rather flat and much better for running. With my knee improving remarkably after seeing the Kiwi physiotherapist, I couldn't resist a 15 minute jog. I had stumbled across the Dunedin runners' home turf, a discovery that gave Dunedin a major boost in my opinion in terms of runability.

In other news, I am starting to teach myself poi. I filled two socks with bags of rice and have been twirling them around for a few minutes each day, attempting to follow the lessons on various poi websites. At some point I'll purchase the glow poi that change colors.