by Wendy Andersen

Created on: November 18, 2009   Last Updated: November 19, 2009

Newly married and moving to NZ in the 70's had been an adventure in itself. We quickly made friends with fellow Englishmen and were invited to join them on their weekend camping trips. To keep things simple at first we mainly ventured up into the hills not far from our home in Wellington.

Not having a great deal of spare cash it was an exciting way to discover this new country. We bought a small tent and to be on the safe side I sewed the ground sheet onto the tent, in an attempt to keep out the inevitable insects. Our friends assured us that NZ did not have any snakes or really nasty insects, so we felt quite safe.

We would drive as far as possible up tracks and then trek on foot through the bush and up streams, taking breaks along the way to enjoy the countryside. As we had no previous experience of camping this was a tremendous way for us to learn all the ins and outs of camping in the wild and to discover the delights the local surroundings had to offer.

Even accompanying these seasoned campers we made quite a few mistakes, like taking off our tops while walking along the cool river banks, only to find that our delicate English skin had been sunburned so badly we ended up with huge water blisters. Another time I stopped to take a drink from a stream, taking water from the edge so as not to get my shoes wet, my friend warned me too late and I ended up with the worst case of runny tummy I had ever known. Then there were the sand flies, small creatures, worse than mosquitoes that sucked our blood. Great itchy red bumps appeared in no time, making the day a very uncomfortable experience, and sleeping would be nearly impossible.

Fortunately for us there were no "dangerous" animals to encounter, but that didn't stop us from running into some scrapes. One time we were setting up our tent in a field and noticed the inevitable sheep not too far away. We didn't think anything of it, believing they were harmless, only to be driven off by an irritable ram. We gathered up as many of our belongings as we could and ran for the safety of the car before any real damage was done. Another time, we were awakened in the early morning to rattling of our pans and the tent falling down on us. It turned out to be some boisterous calves, pulling at the guide ropes. They were scary enough, as we crawled out of the tent only to find we were surrounded by four or five of them, and not knowing if we were going to be trampled upon or licked to death! All went well, as they were just as shocked when we appeared, and run off in all directions.

The birth of our daughter put a stop to our camping days for a while, and that is a totally different adventure.

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