Finally headed South

We had set up a couchsurf in Auckland, and got dropped off in the vicinity of her house, but we weren't exactly sure where we were. We got some groceries for dinner and wandered around for a bit until a friendly chap directed us to the right area. Then we called Jaye, our host, and she came and picked us up. Jaye was a wonderful host, she had traveled when she was younger, and enjoyed meeting current travelers in the midst of their journey. We made delicious burgers for dinner, and enjoyed a relaxing evening with her family watching My Kitchen Rules. The next morning Jaye generously drove us to the bus station, where we caught a bus to New Plymouth. The bus stop was about two miles from our third couchsurf host, Hamish. We started walking towards his apartment, which of course ended up being mostly uphill, and our 50-lb packs forced frequent breaks. To make matters worse, it started raining. We gritted our teeth and slogged through, finally ending up in front of what we hoped was his door around 10 pm. Luckily, Hamish was home and warmly welcomed us, and with a dry set of clothes and a comfortable couch, we forgot the trials of the evening. We again had a spare bedroom to ourselves, and we fell asleep almost immediately.

Wary sheep being corralled 

The next morning we baked some thank-you cookies for Hamish, and then walked the two miles back to the bus station, where we caught the bus to Bulls. Bulls is a tiny town (population 1,750) on the west coast of the southern part of the North island. To give you an idea of how little the town had to offer, the best their tourism board could offer was puns based on their name.

The whethers outside were frightful

Our next farm host, Cathy, picked us up from Bulls in a beat-up farm pickup, or as they're called in New Zealand, a "ute". Cathy and David had 950 hectares on two farms where they finished thousands of cattle, sheep, and deer for meat. "Finishing" usually involves purchasing young animals a short while before they are ready to be butchered, and feeding them until they have the ideal ratio of bone, meat, and fat.

Just a small fraction of the farm's sheep
 population (which was in the thousands)

 We had thus far avoided a common New Zealand farming stereotype on our trip but the next day finally found us caring for over three hundred sheep. They were all new arrivals to the farm and had to be inoculated before being put to pasture. This is accomplished by injecting liquid dewormer/medicine into their mouths. The process is called "drenching" which was appropriate because we had to complete this task in the pouring rain. The clothes we had been wearing that day would smell of wet sheep for weeks.
The remainder of our short stay was spent mostly working on fencing, apparently a common theme among our host farms. The last fence Randy worked on had been washed out by an epic flood a few years earlier. While he was traipsing through the woods pulling electric fence posts out of trees, a too-close-for-comfort gunshot reminded him that it was hunting season. He quickly decided to leave that fence for the next volunteer.

Hectares of special grass planted via GPS
specifically for grazing

A really nice diesel-fueled
 kitchen stove

Meanwhile, Holly was helping Cathy paint and fix up a house that they had on a different property, in preparation for selling it. Holly was painting the window frames outside, and at one point she knocked over the can of paint, spilling it all over the concrete walk. This quickly turned into a fiasco, because there was no water hooked up. Even after hours of scrubbing, Holly left her mark on New Zealand.
After only four days, David happened to be commuting to Wellington and we couldn't pass up that guaranteed two hour ride in the direction we were heading. We all left at 4:30 in the morning and enjoyed an in-depth conversation about the New Zealand dairy industry. We didn't realize that 95% of the milk produced in New Zealand is exported, mostly in powdered form. The majority of this powdered milk goes is destined for Asia, where an up-and-coming middle class is eager to obtain this newly-affordable source of protein.

Islands in Cook Strait

David was kind enough to drop us off right at the ferry terminal, and we hopped on our 3-hour westward ferry ride to the south island. The ferry ride was beautiful, culminating in a panoramic view of lush green islands, as we navigated through the Cook Strait, finally landing in Picton. We had a couple-hour layover in Picton, before catching a bus south to Christchurch. On the bus ride down we enjoyed the New Zealand scenery, but the highlight of the trip was our chatty bus driver. The vibe he gave off was more tour guide than bus driver. He talked almost nonstop for four and a half hours on everything from how the commercial salt flats work, to a mildly racist history of the early Maori-colonist interactions, to the merits of getting a commercial driver's license ("it's surprising how easy it is to become a bus driver").

Holly bonds with a baby fur seal

Skags (cormorants) and the
giant rock they've painted white

 He also seemed to be sad that whaling was over, but nevertheless we enjoyed the history lessons, tangents and all, of the areas we were driving through. As we drove along the coast, the bus driver asked if we wanted to stop at a seal colony along the way. Although the majority of our fellow passengers raised their hands, everyone was still being indecisive, so when the driver asked again Holly put the matter to rest with a resounding "YES!," and we stopped for a photo op.

New Zealand is also home to many fur seals, the sheep of the sea