New Zealand - Day Eight (14/12/11)

It would be the wildest day in the whole trip ever.

Ever heard of sand-tobogganing - or, in simple terms, sand surfing?

Anyway, we visited Cape Reinga in the morning. It's the most Northern part of New Zealand, and from there we were supposed to see the the meeting point of two oceans. Unfortunately, we were presented with the crappiest weather ever. No, I couldn't see any sea. I couldn't even see the lighthouse clearly. Visibility was limited to a few metres at most - it was like a serious version of Genting with thick mist and raging winds.

So much for summer. I was the only one who didn't bring a parka - a raincoat - or anything waterproof along with me. While my parents were safe and sound with their plastic windbreakers, my jacket was soaked.

 Yeah, well...

Then came the wild part of the day - sand surfing.

 All hail Anne, the amateur sand surfer who rolled off the sand hill with board in hand.

No, really. The wind was that strong. Now, that normally wouldn't be a problem, but the board seemed to like the wind a lot. Whenever the wind blew, I had to clamp my fingers down on the board tightly so as the ensure the board didn't fly along with the wind. And mind you, climbing up the sand hill with socks was tough - probably due to the grip, I guess. I deftly threw the socks to one side and staggered up the hill, using the board as an anchor. There were a few times where I really wanted to just quit and back the hell down - but hey, there was no way I would just quit like that. The most important part was making sure the board was in my hands - if the board flew off, God knows where'd it go.

I had to lie on the board, hold on to the front part, and slide down on the slope.

Honestly, I preferred skiing. For one, looking down the slope was a frightening experience. For another, whenever I clammed up, the results were never, never good.

The guide's strict instruction was - never to let go of the board, otherwise one would fall off the board.

And I typically let go of the board in hopes of steadying myself, only to find myself falling off (damn it, why never I listen?) and rolling downwards.

You had no idea how hard it was to get the sand off my jacket. I had to use one of those brushes to pat the dust away - and even then I still had my dirty socks and wet jackets (it was still raining, believe it or not) to deal with. My mum practically scooted away and kept a distance away from me.

We then visited the Ninety Mile Beach. Well, it was supposed to stretch out for ninety miles, but in reality it was only sixty miles. Still, it was a beautiful sight to behold as it wasn't commercialized - there were no hotels, resorts, or even any shops or restrooms. No one was allowed to build anything there - leaving the beach deserted, untouched, but incredibly breathtaking.

Of course, due to the grey sky, the photo didn't turn out that nice - but to me, it was unpolluted, calm, serene -

- and that was, perhaps, the most important thing of all.