Ryan & U'i's Pacific Odyssey: NZ Day 31

June 5

Day – Weather clearing some, Opotiki Town, drive east

Night – Oceanfront private land in Te Kaha

Driving east past Opotiki is quite an experience. The east cape region of Aotearoa is home to its largest population of Maori. One feels their presence almost immediately. The small winding road was dotted with homemade signs of painted plywood shouting variations of “RESPECT”, “THIS IS MAORI LAND, ACCESS WITH PERMISSION”, and over a hundred signs demanding “NO DRILLING”. We stopped in at a local store to buy some snacks and picked up a paper handout describing the issues. The front of the hand-out proclaimed in caps, “STOP DEEP SEA OIL DRILING IN THE RAUKUMARA BASIN: APRIL 2011—GOVERNMENT OF NEW ZEALAND USES MILITARY AGAINST NZ INDIGENOUS CITIZENS TO ADVANCE ITS PROSTITUTION OF OUR PRISTINE OCEANS TO BRAZILIAN OWNED OIL EXPLORATION COMPANY—PETROBRAS. STAND WITH TEWHANAU A APANUI TO OPPOSE DEEP SEA OIL IN NZ WATERS.” Anyone can go online and read on this very important issue at ‘Stop the drilling on our East Coast’ and the ‘Te Whanau a Apanui’ group page. Their primary concern was the inevitable spills that occur, and the history of spills, poor containment and cover up that the massive Petrobras Corporation has created globally. For these people, there are no supermarkets. The land and primarily their ocean provides everything they need to survive. These areas demand utmost respect and care for their sustenance to continue. It is quite obvious why this issue is heated.

That night, the only motor camp for 4 hours wouldn’t allow us in, because of the ground saturation from several days of rain. We were forced to freecamp in an area that, while friendly, carried a certain undertone of “welcome to our home, now leave”. Camping on someone’s land with two large vans wasn’t exactly discreet or respectful. We inched up and down the coast, trying to find a little area off the road under some trees to provide some shelter and hide us from view. There were little options. Finally we found a small field right on the water, with a sign posted “Camping with permission from owner only. Don’t embarrass yourself.” We decided it was worth it to find the owner. The first house we walked up to was helpful and told us to walk up the road where we would speak with another man. They sent their daughter with us. The man was kind, and after hearing our situation allowed us to spend the night. It was a beautiful place, and we felt safe. It was also the place where I was attacked (unknowingly at the time) by over a dozen sand flies, something that would haunt for weeks to come. They are small creatures, between the size of a flea and a house fly. One barely feels a sand fly as its jaws penetrate the skin to suck on your blood. They may inject an anesthetic for all I know. There is little pain for several hours, only a slight itch comparable to a small mosquito bite, one that can be forgotten if distracted. Either that night or the following day, the real adventure begins. The bite begins to swell some and turn bright red. It looks as though you might squeeze the “poison” out but nothing exits the wound. The itching begins, and doesn’t let up for 5-7 days. It starts slowly, and grows to a mind numbing, eye watering scratch fest. Stimulating the skin only makes it worse and provides very temporary satisfaction. Nothing would work against my reaction, Benedryl, hydrocortisone, Claritin. By the third day I (Ryan) counted over 30 bites on both feet and ankles. My feet were swollen and alien looking, and felt as though they were stuck in a bucket of nettles. Nettles with itching powder sprinkled on top.