Travel Kite @ 90 Mile Beach

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One of my big plans for this trip was to kite 90 Mile Beach in the north of New Zealand. But the wind forecast had been more than poor for days and for our entire time travelling in the Northland. In Kaitaia, the last major town before the wilderness in the north, we fill up with food and petrol. Then it’s off to the beach in Ahipara by car.

The 90 Mile Beaach is marked as an official highway on all New Zealand road maps. Last time we managed 153km/h without any problems. This time we don’t make it that far. After two small river crossings, I spot a kite on the beach. Kite instructor Leslie says the wind here is always stronger than forecast when it’s sunny. He’s right. (more…)

Bay of islands

Post
#506

1112

2012

Tue

22:25

day #

2013

2.4 k
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On the other side of the Bay of Islands opposite Paihia lies Russel. The whaling town was once notorious as the hellhole of the Pacific: whores, alcohol, gambling and murder. Today it is exactly the opposite: old Victorian wooden villas, renovated to the highest standard, quiet, safe, clean. A small ferry takes us across the Bay of Islands on bicycles.

Back at the hostel, there’s still some work to do that I didn’t manage to finish before leaving. A lot of hostels here now have Zenbu routers. As a guest, you usually only get 50MB free per day, which makes working in shops with 5GB of data a bit more difficult. After two days of work and rest, we are ready for the Northland.

Into The Wild … Fence

Post
#505

1012

2012

Mon

23:40

day #

2012

2.7 k
views

A dear Belgian joins us for the journey to the Northland. We drive through the Waiketere Ranges to Piha Beach and Karekare. Unfortunately, neither of these fit in with our plan to camp “Into The Wild”. Prohibition signs everywhere and lots of tourists. We decide to switch to the east coast north of Auckland.

On the way we stop in Puhoi, famous for its cheese and the smallest library in the world. We save the goat’s cheese at €8 for 100 grams. A few ducks waddle across the road. Lots of Ferraris, Porsches and hotrods slow down, only the one really bad one among the numerous Harley Davidson bikers drives on. There are now more luxury cars in New Zealand than on Lake Geneva. (more…)

Speechless Beauty…

Post
#504

0812

2012

Sat

7:15

day #

2010

2.6 k
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We were actually just looking for a suitable kite spot east of Auckland in the last foothills of the three-day storm. But today, summer has arrived in New Zealand with a vengeance. The sun is blazing, the wind is dying down. Endorphins are dancing in my head, triggered solely by the beauty of this place.

The wild Tasman Sea lies before me. Seagulls circle in the sky, a few anglers stand on rocks in the hard surf. A cool stream meanders across the black lava sand beach of Whatipu, shimmering in the heat. The sun flashes in 1000 crystals. Behind me, the Waikere Ranges with their fern-covered jungle slopes. (more…)

Must Wash Hands! Everytime!

Post
#503

0612

2012

Thu

21:30

day #

2008

2.5 k
views

The old Asian lady of the house has put up signs throughout the property. At the entrance, it says that short-term guests are no longer welcome. In the kitchen there is a cleaning order with comments of refusal underneath. The highlight, however, is a sign with the charming Chinese-English inscription “Must wash your hands! Everytime!”.

It hangs everywhere: on the oven, in the living room, in the shower and on the loo. I comply and wash my hands. Strange. There’s no sign here. Lulled into an almost psycho-like stupor, I turn round – and scream out loud. Fixdreck! There it is again. The first sign that startled me. (more…)

Living Like God In France?

Post
#494

1808

2012

Sat

12:45

day #

1898

3.7 k
views

Some wisdom is easy to grasp. Others you have to survive in order to begin to understand them. “Living like God in France” is one of the latter. The destination: Provence. The time: peak season, start of the summer holidays in Bavaria and France.

In the face of the economic crisis, President Hollande called on his people to go on holiday in their own country. They obeyed en masse. I’m still amazed that we make it to Mulhouse, France, in just 3.5 hours in the evening. The traffic jam only comes after driving through the night before leaving for the Rhone Valley near Montélimar. From then on everything goes very slowly. Every 10 kilometres, the French set up altars for Mercurius. They flash in the night. (more…)

Meditation And Massacre

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#492

3005

2012

Wed

7:01

day #

1818

7.1 k
views

My father was a good person. When the bad grades came, he gave me a meditation cassette: Superlearning – learning in your sleep. Firstly, this end of the educational flagpole made me fall asleep quickly, secondly, it didn’t do what it was supposed to – and ultimately left me clearly traumatised by meditation as a child.

Today I am a so-called head person. Unfortunately, this hardly helps when playing chess, but it definitely manifests itself in a pronounced scepticism towards any skullduggery that cannot be logically justified. According to my last room neighbour – God have mercy on his soul – some meditation CDs have a more disastrous effect on me than a mixture of crack and crystal meth. (more…)

Günther Grass, Israel & The Atomic Bomb

Post
#482

0604

2012

Fri

12:43

day #

1764

6.6 k
views

I’m a child of the eighties. Unfortunately, when “The Day After” was first broadcast on public television, I apparently had one of those stupid sensitive phases. The film grabbed me so hard that I couldn’t sleep for months. And when I did, I had nightmares. The nuclear deterrent had really worked on me: I was terrified of nuclear war.

The cold war became warmer, perestroika planted flowers and my neck tension eased. For years, growing up relatively undisturbed to grunge and green energy, I thought: the world has learnt something. It was on the right track. Then Bush came along, and the new “non” imperialism made bold new demands. (more…)

Salamat! Danke!

Post
#468

0802

2012

Wed

16:08

day #

1706

4.3 k
views

My kite odyssey across the Philippines offered everything that makes travelling good: good people, good places and good ways. Many thanks to everyone who was there: Uli, Dave, Miri, Max, Chris, Jules, Joanna, Maou, Bente, Davide, Marc, Cynthia, Michael, Marina, Charlhs, Harold, Goran, Vanisi, Björn. Salamat to all the good Philippinos along the way, who always helped wherever they could.

On the last day we take the bus back from Batangas to Manila to watch Metzel movies. The hostel has forgotten my reservation. No matter. I buy six pairs of lost sunglasses at the market. What remains? Heavy arms, lots of blisters, 10,000 pictures and good stories. My old shoes are labelled “Frank faster”. These are the best of almost 100 stories: (more…)

Puerto Galeras Permanent Fuckers

Post
#467

0802

2012

Wed

7:36

day #

7004

3 k
views

We hop into the minivan to Roxas and say goodbye at the pier. Max ships back to Boracay. I drive on towards Manila. In Calapan, the second minivan kicks me out. Trike to the market and take the jeepney to Puerto Galera. There, a trike pirate rips me off for the last time. Five euros for five kilometres. I say goodbye to him with the words “Thanks for ripping me off, fucker.” He looks stupid, I’m fine.

I only need three trikes, two minivans, a jeepney and seven hours to cover the 210 kilometres from Bulalacao to Sabang / Puerto Galera. The waiting time was never more than ten minutes. The entire board of Deutsche Bahn should be sent here on an educational holiday. They could learn a lot about coordination. Less so when it comes to speed. (more…)

Religion And Videoke

Post
#466

0702

2012

Tue

12:33

day #

1705

3.5 k
views

If religion is opium for the people, then videoke is crack for the Filipinos. No drug is more addictive, has a stronger effect and produces more blatant films. You shall have no other gods beside me? Pah! Even the deep faith of the Filipinos knows its limits. It’s called Videoke. They will drop everything for it.

In every good Filipino household, the videoke system is more important than the toilet or cooker; it is roughly equivalent to the Indian household altar. I saw the most primitive bamboo huts in the middle of the jungle – with the thickest videoke systems. People often sing very well in such places. As soon as the system is in a public place, the level usually drops three metres below ground level. (more…)

Kitesurf Final Philippines

Post
#465

0602

2012

Mon

9:02

day #

1704

6.7 k
views

In the last three months, I’ve kited at ten different spots in the Philippines. Doesn’t sound like much at first. But every Filipino said “This year the weather is crazy. La nina.”. The north-easterly wind Amihad, which usually starts in mid-November, arrived for the first time on 30 December. Until then, apart from a short session in El Nido on Palawan, I had been in the doldrums for seven weeks.

If you can’t survive lulls in the Philippines, you must hate travelling. The Philippines offer much more than just wind: incredibly friendly and interested people, magnificent landscapes, good food, tough trekking, relaxed island hopping and good rum. I deliberately leave Videoke out of the equation. Even if you laugh, at some point it’s no longer funny. (more…)

An Almost Fatal Kite Safari

Post
#464

0502

2012

Sun

12:31

day #

1703

5 k
views

Bipin comes by in the morning. He has organised a bangka for a kite safari to the islands in the far south-east of Mindoro. The crossing takes almost an hour and a half and is very rough. We are expecting strong and steady winds coming in over the open sea at deserted tropical dream spots where no one has ever kitesurfed before. Our first stop is the outermost island of Masin.

On the west side is a fishing village on a coral beach, with seagrass plantations in front of it. The people are friendly. They have never seen longnoses before. The north-east wind is blocked by the island. We go to the other side. The wind picks up. Shorebreak a good metre onto large pointed rocks. There are kiters who go out at spots like this. Not us. (more…)

“I Like It A Bit Overpowered”

Post
#463

0402

2012

Sat

12:00

day #

1702

3.9 k
views

That’s the sentence of the day. Max recites it with a subtle swagger. We’re standing on the pier. Measuring the wind. 15-25 knots. Last night was long and good again, as was the hangover. Around midnight I played a round of chess against a Filipino. Suddenly he bends over the bench and vomits like a gargoyle. Until then I thought I’d played well.

My condition says nine kite, but I leave even that on the beach for an hour. Max is immediately out with the seven. Then he comes back with the set of the day and sets up the twelve. I get to the third floor with 20kg more weight and the nine, I’m well in the juice. It’s never enough for him. (more…)

Bulalacao Big Air

Post
#462

0302

2012

Fri

14:20

day #

1701

3.8 k
views

We wake up quite groggy. A bucket of water. Awake. We have grilled tuna with fried eggs for breakfast. The lovely Tucke takes good care of us – even though she’s well stricken herself. The wind hasn’t arrived yet. But the forecast on Windguru has almost always been right so far. For Bulalacao, it has been predicting choppy winds for today and the next few days for a week now.

I lose a game of chess against Max. A small rain shower passes through. Then the wind picks up. At Felipa Lodge II, you hardly feel a thing. I walk a little to the north. A deserted pier. The water in the two by four kilometre bay of Bulalacao is low – but crowned by white waves. The wind is now chopping at a brutal 10-30 knots. (more…)

The Last Passage

Post
#461

0202

2012

Thu

22:10

day #

1700

3.1 k
views

Our last passage together in the Philippines is like travelling here has always been: exhausting and adventurous. Early in the morning, we travel by trike through pouring rain to Magdiwan Pier. The 50 metre long RoRo ferry of Montenegro Lines is shaken by large breakers in heavy seas. The spray splashes up to the promenade deck at a height of five metres. The going is reminiscent of Oktoberfest after four measures.

Max hasn’t eaten properly for two days at Guting-Guiting. He orders two 45cm pizzas at the Romblon Deli. Then a cheap room and a good night’s sleep. We can’t go any further today. In the evening, we finish the rest of the pizza and sip the last gin and tonic in Romblon. We haven’t seen a single traveller for days, not tourists anyway. (more…)

Mount Guiting-Guiting

Post
#460

0102

2012

Wed

11:47

day #

1699

3.3 k
views

by Mad Max. Mt Guiting-Guiting, the toughest mountain of the Philippines – this mountain has fascinated me since I first saw it on Boracay in good weather over a week ago, and that’s over 100 kilometres away. The tour takes three days, I want to do it all in two days.

A tough schedule and perhaps a little overconfidence? We’ll see. Guiting-Guiting means something like scissors. The peak, which juts out of the surrounding countryside into the sky like a pair of scissors, hangs in the fog. After our sunny moped tour over the last few days, we might be lucky with the weather. I gladly accept Frank’s offer and write the report on the mountain after we have parted ways for two days. (more…)

About Small Villages

Post
#459

3101

2012

Tue

22:47

day #

1698

3.2 k
views

I grew up in a small village. My childhood there was something between boring and cruel. Life only got better when I moved to the big city. Now I’m happy there. And yet: on all my travels, the small villages are always heaven on earth for me. Magdivan is one such small village.

The boys play basketball in front of the school. A large sign adorns the entrance: “Elementary School”. Directly behind it is a wall: “You are entering a drug-free zone”. The marketplace. There is little to buy, but perhaps that is precisely why there is enough. The trike riders doze in the sun. I stock up on my sunglasses. The wind is blowing today. It doesn’t bother me. Quiet in the village. (more…)

The Tree House On Magdiwan Beach

Post
#458

3001

2012

Mon

14:02

day #

1697

3.7 k
views

Good always grows out of bad. Firstly, biting texts about stupid people, followed immediately by something good. At first I doubt this rule. I had to have Soder-Schedl’s bike repaired yesterday. But: an Australian Filippina overheard me complaining to the landlord. She offers me the tree house of her summer residence, right on the beach in Magdiwan.

Her staff are nice to a fault. The tree house is a dream and costs next to nothing. The shower is outdoors on the north-facing beach. As I had to cross or cycle along a few rivers in heavy downpours on my return journey from Sa Agoho that morning, it’s clear what’s coming next, isn’t it? After rain always comes good wind here! (more…)

Touring Sibuyan

Post
#457

2901

2012

Sun

22:45

day #

1696

3.1 k
views

I just left the broken bike at the side of the road yesterday. This morning it’s back in front of the door. Comment: “It’s running!” I say “No, it’s broken, the engine keeps cutting out and eventually it won’t work at all. I don’t want to push it again!”. But the mucked-up ones remain firm. In the end, I get back on the battered two-wheeled flak. We head south on the west side of Sibuyan.

The concrete road soon ends. The gravel tracks lead through green jungle, with high mountains to the left and the blue sea to the right. The engine stutters again on the first steep incline. It cuts out on the next one. I just start shouting, loud and long. A Filipino comes running up. And helps me immediately. They have nothing and give everything, always. (more…)

Sibuyan Babble Skull

Post
#456

2801

2012

Sat

21:56

day #

1695

3.7 k
views

Sibuiyan is an island completely off the beaten track. In the middle of the Visayas, but difficult to reach. It has always been like this. Cut off from all other parts of the Philippines during the last ice age, there are many endemic species here today. Some are hard to find, others are unmissable. Today I am writing about one of these life forms: the Sibuyan Soder-Schedl.

He talks rubbish all day long, without exception. We met the first representative of this species the day before in the Romblon Deli. We didn’t ask for his opinion. He told us anyway. Of course, we were completely wrong with ours. On the ferry the next morning, he makes it quite clear again. I mime seasickness to escape the torrent of his words. (more…)

Jeepney surfing

Post
#455

2701

2012

Fri

23:13

day #

1694

2.9 k
views

I’m lying on the kitebag at the edge of a little-travelled road and looking up at the sky. Clouds pass behind a large ficus tree. Next to me, the local motorbike gang sits in the shade of the palaver. Chicks chirp, hens cluck, roosters scream. Children laugh, girls sing, men argue. A pig grunts. The wind rustles in the leaves of the trees.

The teachers are teaching in the school next door. In the village, a radio plays Filipino evergreens. A dog barks. The escaped goat eats the flowers in front of the church. The policeman throws a stone at it. Birds chirp. The paddy field sways in the wind. A woman hangs up washing. Thanks to its engine, you can hear the jeepney long before you see it. Everything is: good. (more…)

Breaking The Waves

Post
#454

2601

2012

Thu

19:39

day #

1693

3.9 k
views

It rains briefly during the night, then the wind picks up. Gusts sweep through the open window. The alarm clock rings at seven. I look out to sea. The tide has reached its lowest point. Together with the phase of the moon, the water level in the bay is now far too low. It’s not acceptable until ten o’clock. I set up the nine and go out.

Even in the bay, the waves are now up to 1.5 metres high. The wind is brutally gusty and very strong. Around midday I measure low 15 knots, mid 20s, gusts of 30 – dream conditions for any kiter – but there’s no more safety. After just 50 minutes on the water with gigantic jumps and a violent wave rodeo, I crawl ashore, ready to go. (more…)

King Kiting For The Second Time

Post
#453

2501

2012

Wed

23:34

day #

1692

3.4 k
views

The drunken Portuguese foreman of 5000 men on a building site in Hong Kong brings us free drinks on the last evening in Charlh’s bar. Apparently the keeper doesn’t want to let him steal the singer’s microphone like he did two nights before. We don’t find out whether his plan works. Three weeks on Boracay were simply enough. We end up in bed reasonably early.

We set off for Tablas early in the morning. Even leaving Boracay is subject to a hefty eco-tax. Letting poo rot in the sea is simply super eco. We drive past the Bulabog one last time. It looks even fuller from outside. I’m infinitely glad to finally get away. I sit on my kite bag in two metres of swell on the sun deck and keep an eye out. (more…)

…And The Best For Last

Post
#452

2401

2012

Tue

12:49

day #

1691