January 20, 2000

The Vail Daily
Vail, Colorado
story by Polly Letofsky

This is another of the periodic columns by the Vail resident who left here August 1 on an 18,000-mile, 3 1/2-year walk around the world for breast cancer awareness.

Kaikoura, New Zealand

The famed Kiwi hospitality is alive and well. Sandra (my crew support who is late of Silverton, CO) and I don't so much as walk past a house when someone is running out the door inviting us to spend the night, cooking us a meal, running a hot bath, and calling their friends down the road to set us up for the next night.

We've stayed with Jim and Gillian on the avocado farm, Alex and Tammy on their dairy farm, Elise invited us to stay with her on her llama farm, Pam and Trevor live in suburbia complete with a spa bath! Mark and Maureen put us up for four nights at their beach front property in Northland, Randi and Tom welcomed us into their home in Taihape on Christmas night, Nancy and Pete live with their two horses where the nearest neighbor has a different area code, and the Maori people even invited us to stay on their Marae.

We've just started our trek through the South Island where we've been forewarned that the folks are even friendlier!

"G'day," the man said pulling up along side me, "do you need a lift?"

"No thank you. I'm actually walking the length of the Island promoting breast cancer awareness, so I can't accept rides."

"How brilliant! Can I offer you some food? Maybe some lollies? How about a warm woolen jersey to wear? Would you care for an apple? I have some apricots in the back. How about I top up your water bottle?"

He seemed desperate to help me out in some way so I thought I better accept his offer of water or we would be there till nightfall.

"G'day," the woman said pulling up on the opposite side of the road. "Can I give you a lift?"

"No thank you," I said handing her a brochure, "I'm walking through New Zealand promoting breast cancer awareness, so I can't accept rides."

"Good on you! That's a bloody long way. Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

"No, not yet."

"Here's my address," she handed me a piece of paper. "Bill and I would love to have you stay with us. Is there anything you don't eat?"

I didn't even know her name, nor did she know mine, but that seemed irrelevant. I heard myself answer, "Rhubarb and olives."

"Excellent. We'll have tea (dinner) waiting for you around 6."

And with that simplicity, she drove off, disappearing into the windy, green hills leaving me at the side of the road with a map to her house and my mouth agape. It will never cease to amaze me.

Other travelers have tales as well. There's even a story going around that a Swedish couple got picked up hitchhiking and upon hearing that they would be traveling through New Zealand for two months, their driver insisted that hitching wasn't safe and that they should take the car. "Please," he urged, "just drop it off here when you're done."

President Clinton was here for the APEC meeting in September and rumor had it that he was "oohing" and "ahhhhing" at every turn.

"Some people live their whole lives and can only dream of seeing such natural beauty. You're lucky people," he told the Kiwis, "to live in such a perfect country."

And, of course, with that single line he wooed their socks right off and all indiscretions in his past were conveniently forgotten. "Oh that Bill Clinton, we just love him!" is cooing we've heard a lot down here. Sandra rolls her eyes every time; I just have a good laugh.

It is indeed a perfect country for walking. There are no snakes or nasty bugs, the bird life thrives, there's vastly changing terrain, fruit stands conveniently staggered every few miles, plenty of ice-cream, and the most dangerous wildlife you'll find might be a lost penguin wobbling frantically through the bush looking for its family.

Years ago I recall 'tramping' one of the hiking trails deep in the Fiordland National Park when I came to a fork in the road. Just as I started to pull out my topo map, a penguin wandered out in front of me, wobbled down the left fork as if to say, "Follow me, I know the way."

And so I did. It was indeed the right way. After a short walk/wobble together he nodded me a good-bye and ducked back into the bush from whence he came. I nodded back, "Thanks for the hospitality."

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