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29

May

Walking New Zealand

by Joyce McGreevy on May 29, 2018

Glenorchy Pier, the gateway to many spectacular hiking trails, is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Glenorchy in New Zealand’s South Island is a gateway to many spectacular hiking trails. 
© Joyce McGreevy

The Wordplay of Pathways

Everyday English reflects the wordplay of pathways. We speak of “getting off track,” or taking “the path of least resistance.” We express disappointment as being “led up the primrose path.” We tell new friends, “I’m glad our paths crossed.” For me, however, while walking New Zealand, I learned an entire new vocabulary.

Glenorchy’s wooden pathway leads into the wetlands and is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Glenorchy’s boardwalk takes birdwatchers into the wetlands. 
© Joyce McGreevy

In New Zealand, a walker’s paradise, pathways crisscross language and the land like skeins of light.  Ancestors of the Maori walked the entirety of the country naming landforms and waterways. Today, walking is the Kiwi way, from short local bush walks to the 1,900-mile Te Araroa (“Long Pathway”).

Kiwis Walk the Talk

Here, walking is no mere footnote. Surveys show that for New Zealanders of every age and ethnicity, walking is the most popular recreation—by a mile kilometers.

Walking pathways around Waiheke Island’s beach and bush are a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Waiheke Island offers serene walks through bush and beach. 
© Joyce McGreevy

The origin of the word path is itself a kind of path. It begins, as many pathways do, with clear signposting: “Take Old English back to Old Frisian, then hang a right at Middle Dutch and keep going until you reach Old High German.”

These early words for path evoke footsteps:  paþ, pæþ pat, pad, pfad. But the ultimate origin for path has disappeared into the forests of time.

A walking pathway in Mangawhero Forest Walk in Tongariro National Park is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Mangawhero Forest Walk in Tongariro National Park meanders through
Rimu, Matai, and Kahikatea trees. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Step Right Up

Let’s go wandering through the present. From the mainlands of North Island and South Island to smaller islands like Waiheke, pathways beckon.

A short path says, “Come on in! Plenty of views, no waiting.”

Walking pathways in Devonport’s Victoria Hill are a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Devonport’s bucolic walks are just a 10-minute ferry ride from the city of Auckland. 
© Joyce McGreevy

A steep path says, “Not so fast. Good things happen in steps.”

Steep wooden steps along a walking pathway in Queenstown challenge visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Queenstown’s topography is truly on the up and up. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Urban pathways are keen to get you where you’re going. “Hurry along! Hurry along!”

Island pathways are more laidback. Sun warms them, breezes ruffle their grasses and your hair. They whisper, “Wherever you’re headed, here’s nice, too.”

Grassy path toward Waiheke's Te Motu Vineyard is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Waiheke’s Te Motu Vineyard is a gentle 20-minute stroll from Onetangi Road. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Sometimes you meet the perfect companion, and if you’re lucky, you’ll walk the same path for a while. As people in New Zealand like to say, “Sweet as!” (Sweet as what, you ask? Just “sweet as.”)

A friendly Paradise duck takes a step along a path in Te Anau inspiring visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

At Lake Te Anau in NZ’s Fiordland,  Paradise ducks and other birds tag along with hikers. 
© Joyce McGreevy

The “Ara” Variations

The word for path in Maori is ara, and New Zealand’s first people have many other names for pathways. There’s ararātā, the path of native Rata trees, and ararimu, if the trees are Rimu. Or you may come to two paths, ararua; a blocked path, arapuni; or the pathway’s end, arapito.

In New Zealand’s mountains or along its coasts, one may encounter the sacred path, or aratapu.

A stone plaque at Queenstown Hill inspires visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Queenstown Hill is known in Maori as Te Tapu-nui, “the mountain of intense sacredness.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Some paths possess deep patience. After a long solitude, they welcome a lone hiker with birdsong.

A walking pathway in the New Zealand bush invites visitors who are walking New Zealand to listen to the bird songs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Put away the earphones. Even when you cannot see native birds, you’ll hear their songs. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Some paths begin gently and rapidly become challenging.  A Maori proverb says, “If you bow your head, let it be to a lofty mountain.”

Walking pathway in Queenstown Hill’s rugged terrain challenges visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Queenstown Hill is a steep, demanding, and ultimately rewarding hike of several hours.  
© Joyce McGreevy

“Basket of Dreams,” a public sculpture by Caroline Robinson’s graces a walking pathway and delights visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Persevere until you reach the “Basket of Dreams,” a sculpture by Caroline Robinson.
© Joyce McGreevy

Mindful Walking

A path can be metaphorical, even when it’s literal. What’s better than a long walk for sorting things out in one’s mind?

Wild mushrooms growing along a forest pathway on Queenstown Hill symbolizes mushrooming troubles that visitors who are walking New Zealand can consider and even resolve on mindful walks. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

If troubles seem to mushroom . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

A tree stump by a walking pathway on Queenstown Hill symbolizes problems that may have visitors who are walking New Zealand stumped. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Or you’re totally stumped . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

Tree roots on Queenstown Hill symbolize how visitors who are mindfully walking New Zealand think through issues and get to the root of a problem. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . .  a mindful walk in the woods can help reveal the roots of an issue.
© Joyce McGreevy

A tree branch on Queenstown Hill serves as a symbol to visitors who are walking New Zealand that they may be grasping for the wrong things. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A path may drop hints: “You’re grasping for the wrong things.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Other Pathways

The path along a mountain ridge is called arapae, a path for the brave. But not all pathways are on the land. The horizon is a path for the eye, the sky a path for imagination.

A view down Lake Wakatipu to The Remarkables mountain range in Queenstown Hill is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Hikes in The Remarkables mountain range offer tranquil views of NZ’s longest lake, Wakatipu. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Shadows and the rays of rainbows form pathways, too. And then there is aramoana, the sea path.

A view of a vintage sailing ship seen from a walking pathway on Devonport’s Victoria Hill is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The views from Victoria Hill above Devonport in NZ’s North Island are pure storybook. 
© Joyce McGreevy

What Pathways Do You Walk?

We’re all on some kind of path. We may choose it, stumble upon it, change it, or create a whole new path.

And oh, I see now, after the beauty of walking New Zealand, if we keep our eyes open, whatever path we’re on can become aratoro—the path of discovery.

In the wordplay of pathways, it happens one step at a time.

A view from a walking pathway toward Glenorchy Lagoon is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A walk to Glenorchy Lagoon is the surest way to inspiration. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Special thanks to Cleone Blomfield and Annette Caswell for their insights and hospitality in Queenstown and Glenorchy. 

To explore New Zealand on foot, start here.

Comment on this post below.

 

Language & Culture/Nature Discovery/New Zealand/On Foot

07

May

Time Travel Adventures

by Joyce McGreevy on May 7, 2018

Skydivers over Queenstown, New Zealand inspire the author to consider the true nature of time travel. (Image © New Zealand Tourism)

There are many ways to fly to Queenstown, New Zealand. 
© New Zealand Tourism

Finding New Perspective
in New Zealand

Do you remember Tuesday, April 3, 2018?  I don’t. I never experienced it.

A man, with his dog, who has slept through the alarm may soon wish he could time travel. (Image © iStock/WebSubstance)

No, I didn’t forget to set the alarm.
© iStock/WebSubstance

 

A woman falling on the ice inspires thoughts of time travel adventures. (Image © iStock/Astrid860)

Nope. Wasn’t in a coma.
© iStock/Astrid860

I just had one of those time travel adventures.

Crossing the Line

Every day, thousands of westbound airline passengers leapfrog over an entire day. They take off from, say, Oakland on a Monday and land in Auckland on a Wednesday.

Yet only 14 hours have passed.

Which really crosses a line.

No, really. It’s what happens when you cross the International Date Line. The line is imaginary, but the effects are real.

Global Gazing

Remember when everyone’s home had a globe? In the 1960s, advanced technology meant that through the magic of electricity and a toggle switch, a globe could light up from the inside. Whoa!

An illuminated globe inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel. (Image © iStock/Vrobelpeter1)

As a child, I found globes illuminating.
© iStock/Vrobelpeter1

If you were a kid back then, you gazed in awe at the illuminated raised relief, marveling at mountains and the depths of the bright blue oceans.

And wondered what that line meant.

Dust off that globe now and you’ll see that the International Date Line isn’t a fixed line. It zigzags giddily to either side of 180 degrees longitude like the wake of a drunken sailor.

A map showing the International Date Lines illuminated globe inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image in the public domain)

In 2011 Samoa skipped Dec. 30 by “moving” to the NZ side of the International Date Line.

If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Wednesday

Some of Magellan’s sailors probably thought they’d knocked back a pint too many after their own time travel adventure in 1522. As Antonio Pigafetta reported:

On Wednesday, the ninth of July, we arrived at . . . Santiago . . . And we charged our men in the boat that, when they were ashore, they should ask what day it was. They were answered that to the Portuguese it was Thursday, at which they were much amazed.

So amazed that, once Magellan’s impeccable record keepers figured it out, they sent a special delegation to alert the Pope. He, in turn, was so amazed that he called a conference. A mere three centuries later, the International Date Line became official. The boundary between one day and the next was set.

Racing to Places

By definition, travel is moving from one place to another place. Like a token on a game board, you advance from Country A to Country B.

For some, travel is a competitive game. Recently, travel magazines profiled a woman whose mission is to become the fastest person to visit all 195 of the world’s sovereign countries.

A woman racing toward travel symbols inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © TK)

“Let’s see, 195 countries times 3.5 hours per airport plus x hours per flight . . .”
© iStock/PRimageFactory

Places in Time

But travel is also about time. Exploring it, experiencing it.

Time travel lights up the raised relief map of your brain, revealing the Valley of Jet Lag and the Mountains of Giddy Realization: I’m here! I’m on the other side of the planet!

It toys with your internal clock, making you narcoleptic at noon, insomniac at midnight, and ravenous at four a.m.

It makes you silly: “Greetings from the Future!” you text your family, who are back in that earlier time zone.

A text message about coffee in Christchurch, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Even 7, 241 miles apart  . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

A text message about coffee in Lincoln City, Oregon inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Carolyn McGreevy)

. . . sisters have coffee together.
© Carolyn McGreevy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It makes you grin: As a traveling freelancer in New Zealand, you’re one day ahead of U.S. deadlines. Yippee!

It makes you hyper-aware: After clearing customs in Auckland, you enter the bustling airport café. It’s 5 a.m. local time, yet the woman who hands you a mug of coffee sings, “Here you are, lovey” with a bright-eyed smile.

A night skyline of Auckland, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Auckland, New Zealand as seen from Devonport across the harbor. 
© Joyce McGreevy

It makes you think: While you were snoozing over the South Pacific, she was catching her bus in Manukau, the dim silhouettes of suburban bungalows slowly un-fuzzing as dawn edged over Hauraki Gulf to etch steel and glass towers against the sky.

Oh, I see: Below the surface of what we experience and exchange lie the complex route maps of all our time travel adventures.

A Planet for All Seasons

In crossing the International Date Line, I’ve also crossed from the Northern to the Southern Hemisphere. Like other imaginary map lines, its effects are real. As I write this in May, it’s autumn in New Zealand.

Autumn leaves at the River Avon in Christchurch, New Zealand inspire an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures.(Image © Joyce McGreevy)

“April in Paris” celebrates spring, but in Christchurch, New Zealand,
April is the middle of autumn.
© Joyce McGreevy

Across New Zealand, forests are ablaze with autumn, their vibrant leaves glowing against snow-capped volcanic peaks. New arrivals from the Northern Hemisphere say, “Oh, the seasons are reversed.”

But are they? Or is this another example of Earth’s symmetry? As spring surges toward summer in one half, autumn yields to winter in the other half.

As Earth’s seasons perform their balancing act, we humans seek an impossible balance between defying time and deferring to it. What if we simply observed its presence and its passage?

ake Tekapo in the Mackenzie Basin, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures.(Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Reflecting on seasonal change at Lake Tekapo in New Zealand’s Mackenzie Basin. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Imagine if your travels through a place were moment-to-moment.  Imagine that, in the time it takes for the world’s fastest traveler to blaze a record-breaking trail through dozens of countries, you were still meandering along, savoring the slowly shifting here and now.

World’s Slowest Traveler?

The number of countries I’ve covered in 5 weeks plus the number I’ll visit in the next 7 add up to a grand total of (drum roll) . . . one. Over the coming weeks, I’ll share stories of New Zealand, from its staggering natural beauty to its wonderful people.

A starry sky in Castlepoint, Wairarapa, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Daniel Rood and New Zealand Tourism)

Stars seem closer to Earth in Castlepoint, Wairarapa, New Zealand. 
© Daniel Rood/New Zealand Tourism

Until then, imagine that each of us was traveling on the surface of an illuminated globe. Imagine that every night we sailed through an ocean of stars, and every morning we woke up in a place of new possibilities.

Just think of all the time travel adventures we could have.

An antique clock inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Even clocks need to unwind sometimes.
© Joyce McGreevy

Why is New Zealand vanishing from world maps? Solve the mystery in this hilarious video featuring NZ Prime Minister Jacinda Adern, here.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

 

Adventure Travel/Crossing Cultures/New Zealand/Secrets to Life

24

Apr

The Dogs on the Bus

by Joyce McGreevy on April 24, 2018

Meg Vogt, creative thinker and owner of Dogs Rule! welcomes canines on her dog bus in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Dog’s Rule! is a (p)awesome bus service based in Sullivan’s Gulch, Portland, Oregon.
© Joyce McGreevy

Creative Thinking for Canines
in Portland, Oregon

Driving with a 12-pack isn’t usually the smartest idea. But when the “12-pack” is a dozen adorable dogs, it’s genius.

Meet creative thinker Meg Vogt, affectionately known as the Dog Bus Lady of Sullivan’s Gulch. When Meg launched Dogs Rule, a bus service for dogs in Portland, Oregon, the locals really got on board.

Creative thinker Meg Vogt and dogs on the bus pose for a “pack portrait” in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Ryan LaBriere)

The dogs on the bus go woof-woof-woof all around the town—en route to leash-free parks.
© Ryan LaBriere @LabrierePhoto

Dogged Devotion

Throughout her life, Meg has solved canine challenges that would overwhelm most people.

Consider Mr. Diego.

Viciously attacked as a puppy, Mr. Diego was soon making his mark on the world—specifically on its inhabitants. But Meg, who was then a dog walker, spent years working through his issues, gradually enabling him to socialize peaceably.

Mr. Diego the white Scottie went from troubled pup to poster dog thanks to Meg Vogt’s creative thinking. (Image © Meg Vogt)

By 2015, Mr. Diego had become the poster pooch for the local humane society. 
© Meg Vogt

Chelsea, a retired police dog, had degenerative myelopathy. Every morning, said Meg, she’d “ease the dog’s rear end into a special wheelchair and drive to a park where Chelsea could chase after squirrels.”

“We totally bonded. Still, I told myself that when Mr. Diego and Chelsea passed, I would move on to a real job. But there was no way. I had all these soul connections with dogs.”

After a series of remarkable careers—paginator at USA Today, audio engineer, video producer, camp counselor, radio show host, and concierge, Meg had found her real job.

Creative thinker Meg Vogt, Max the poodle, and Grendel the Irish wolfhound howl for fun on the dog bus in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Meg, Max, and Grendel practice howlistic therapy.
© Joyce McGreevy

How Much Is That School Bus in the Window?

In 2008, Meg bought an old school bus and figured out how to operate it on the drive home. She parked it beside the house that she shares with her very supportive wife, Deb (“Not a Dog Person”) Bridges. Then she invited the neighborhood over.

Families, children, and other creative thinkers paint the Dog Bus in Sullivan’s Gulch, Portland, Oregon. (Image © Meg Vogt)

Sullivan’s Gulch neighbors gather for a paint-and-pizza party.
© Meg Vogt

The dog bus was born. And wow, did it ever bus a move. Who let the dogs out? Oh, I see: In Portland, Oregon this is not a rhetorical question.

Blue Rover, Blue Rover

Recently, I joined Meg on her rounds. Our destination?  Thousand Acres—open land, berry bushes, and a delta. It’s off-leash paradise.

Because her passengers lack opposable thumbs, Meg uses house keys that clients entrust to her. Eagerly anticipating their day out, the dogs trot to the bus door, race up the steps, and take their usual seats.

Dogs of several kinds board the dog bus, a product of Meg Vogt’s creative thinking in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Why chase your tail when you can catch a bus?
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s Spring Break. Several dogs are on vacation, taking their humans with them, so we’re down to a six-pack and a bonus pup.  Our seven riders range from petite Moe to a pony-sized Irish wolfhound named Grendel. (Which technically makes Grendel a Beowulf-hound.)

Now add Meg’s “god dog” Piper the Scottie, Ida the yellow Lab, Max the French poodle, Porter the black Lab, and Finn the fantastic medley. It could be a recipe for chaos. Instead, it’s like the best buddy movie ever.

Grendel leans his massive head out the window, breezing. Moe snuggles. Porter seems pensive, as if composing a bestselling bark-all. Max, Ida, and Piper look out the windows. Finn reclines but casts a supervisory look over the pack.

Several dogs gaze out the windows of the dog bus, a product of Meg Vogt’s creative thinking in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The dogs are poised for that first sight of green fields.
© Joyce McGreevy

Go, Dog, Go!

The dogs somehow contain themselves as Meg parks. Once out the door, they run merrily down the path, splitting off occasionally to run in broad, looping arcs.

Meg Vogt and dogs enjoy a run at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Best dog run ever!
© Joyce McGreevy

There is no happiness like that of dogs roaming free.

“Ida Idaho” spots a puddle and knows just what to do.

Dogs enjoy a puddle at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon, thanks to creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dog bus. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Dive in!
© Joyce McGreevy

Dogs frolic at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon, thanks to creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dog bus. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Max and Grendel show off for the pup-arazzi.
© Joyce McGreevy

Porter, the quiet one, turns daring explorer, scouting the perimeter.  Piper and Moe hold court with adoring fans.

Finn wades into the water. There is no branch so big, no stick tossed so far, that he cannot retrieve it.

A dog carrying a branch frolics at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon, thanks to creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dog bus. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Finn branches out.
© Joyce McGreevy

The Leader of the Pack

When it’s time to go, how do you gather a pack of dogs from 1400 acres? The secret is to be Meg Vogt. At her call, all seven come running. Together, they lope along as one big family and board the bus.

Creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dogs stroll through a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Anyone who thinks the dog bus is a trendy business is barking up the wrong tree.
The only high end in this labor of love is Grendel’s.
© Joyce McGreevy

To be tuckered out after a day of fun is the best kind of tired in the world. While the dogs rest, Meg shares her story.

Incredible Journey

“I was that white kid on the Rez,” she says.  “It was a beautiful experience, growing up in Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin.”

Most nights, Meg would take her bedding out to the screened-in porch. There she’d sleep with her dog Carly, whom her mom had rescued as a puppy.

“It was sweet waking up to the sound of an Evinrude motor on the lake. I’d get in the canoe with Carly in front. Then I’d take off across the lake, go hiking in the National Forest. That was my childhood.”

Lassie (and Buddies), Come Home

One by one, the dogs are returned home. I feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, sad to bid farewell to my new friends.

Neighbors and dog visit with creative thinker Meg Vogt on a porch in Sullivan Gulch, Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Max loves Meg’s dog bus so much, he watches from a balcony for its arrival.
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s the community, says Meg, who helps keep her bus running. When the dog bus needed a new transmission, folks pitched in. “Sullivan’s Gulch is a good community that way. We all take care of each other.”

Meg Vogt and Štĕpán Šimek are creative thinkers and Sullivan Gulch neighbors in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Meg chats with Sullivan’s Gulch neighbor Štĕpán Šimek . . .  
© Joyce McGreevy

A passerby, Monique, chats with Meg Vogt, whose creative thinking led to the dog bus in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . . and a delighted passerby named Monique. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Dog Tales and Winding Trails

Now Meg hopes to fund a multi-purpose space for dogs and humans called Rawhide Ranch. So she’s writing books. There’s no shortage of material:

Her richly lived life has doglegged around the world. (Although we’ve only just met, Meg and I discover that our paths had crossed years earlier. We’d both been volunteer radio hosts at KAZU in Pacific Grove, California.)

There’s true love conquering all as Meg’s wife faced down metastatic colon cancer. Deb played soccer between rounds of chemo and went from having a 6% chance of survival to becoming a world-class race walker.

A little dog named Moe rides the dog bus, a product of Meg Vogt’s creative thinking in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

When Moe lost a twin, the pack cheered him up.
© Joyce McGreevy

Then there are Meg’s “myku,” her version of haiku. Doggerel? Hardly! But the dogs clearly are muses:

        Shut down your keyboard.

        Come! Take in the morning light.

        Can you smell the rain?

Creative thinking at its off-leash best.

 

 

That night, I make a wish on the Dog Star: May Meg’s dog tales and other writing find a loving home. And may the dog bus and the dog pack always roam free.

A license plate from the dog bus in Portland, Oregon reflects Meg Vogt’s creative thinking. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Long may their tails wag!
© Joyce McGreevy

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

 

Clever Ideas/Making a Difference/Nature Discovery/USA

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