An Intoxicating Aura

An Intoxicating Aura

Reflections on the interface between curiosity and experience

It could well be an ancient phenomenon. 

Here is Scene One, set a thousand years ago:

I’m sitting at the fireside of a friend’s small roadside inn one evening when a traveller descends in from the cold to join our circle. His feet are dusty, his sandals well past worn-in. His walking stick looks strong and business-like and it fits the curve of his hand like a long-time friend. His robe is fringed with the same frayed and dusty look as his sandals, and from the folds of its fabric as he moves through us to settle into his seat waft intriguing scents – the incense of Eastern temples, fragrant spices from the South, the sharp tang of the northern forests.

Through the evening as he quietly, slowly tells us tales of the far-off lands he has trod, we listen spellbound. As he paints pictures with his words, our imaginations flesh it out still more. Mysterious, alluring something like a dream but with more colour and surprise. The strange foods we hear of are as heavenly feasts, the battles with wolves and coldness are tales of epic triumph, even the endless burning deserts are glorious austerity.

Scene Two, last year:

I’m sitting on the cream synthetic leather couch at 67 Hillary Street, Dunedin, the MacBook Pro warm on my lap, a cup of peppermint tea growing cold on the coffee table while I pour over a blog showing photos of Tajikistan’s Pamir. The raggedy endlessly-stretching road, even the slightly leaning wooden power poles, the dusty looking bicycle, all speak to me of adventure. The frames of photographs are small peepholes to some other wonderful, fascinating world. Brightening each of them, suffusing every object and place, is the intoxicating aura of mystery. Everything glows with a kind of otherworldly light. Even the snapshot showing an overnight snowfall blanketing tent and bicycle with a painfully freezing white crust produces in me a warm thrill at the glorious hardships and triumphs of high adventure, and I long to take part.

Scene Three, last month:

Ollie and I laze on the stained gold coloured quilt of a Vietnamese guesthouse, watching a slideshow run though of a random selection of our year’s photographs. We exclaim, sigh and reminisce over a bright Kyrgyz morning, a bread-stop in Georgia, a Turkish coast road. A photo flicks up of Vietnam hill country, and we are quiet. It is too fresh. Our older photos have gained a glow of nostalgia that this does not yet have. Instead it has an almost unsettling quality, reminding us that there is work still to be done to navigate our way safely and successfully through this part of the world, still guesthouses, roads, food and water to be negotiated and attained. I know that within a month’s time, when this chapter too is complete, this photo will glow as brightly with nostalgia as the others around it. For now though it is present, and that is too raw and not altogether relaxing.

Scene Four, recently:

I pull out our map of Central Asia, and look at our wonderful winding route through Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. My mind flashes back to the map in the front of the book I read at home, “The Great Game: On Secret Service in High Asia”. Now our map of the area has memories attached. The names of little villages spring up for me an image of a friendly encounter, a confusing intersection, a particularly good bread oven. The high passes have a 3D and almost a physical memory, I know their height in my legs and lungs, and know the exhilaration of their drops. All so precious. But I wonder if it comes at a cost. I know these places with a different quality than I knew them as I read The Great Game. I’m not certain that these places have not lost some of their size for me. My eyes have seen the peaks, my bicycle wheels have rolled the trade routes, and I have been deeply blessed and in ways changed by them. But the thrill of mystique that made the peaks soar beyond comprehension in my imagination has lessened.

Scene Five, today:

We cycle the road out of Thakkek in Southern Laos. The road we have chosen is a flat road by the mighty Mekong River, fringed with palm trees, orange dirt and a motley collection of housing. Away to the west of us is a line of great looking forest clad karst hills. Appealing in the mystery they hold, they are just out of reach of this journey of ours, leaving us to wonder in curiosity what it is hiding over there. Our ride can only ever be one line on a sprawling map. There are always things just off our map that are tantalizingly unexplored. What is it like further up the Bartang Valley? How about in South Eastern Turkey? What is it like to ride in the Dolomites? Massive thankfulness for our amazingly full journey precludes any regrets, but does not squash a curiosity in the next hills over, the other road, the country across the border. Terra incognito (land unknown) will surely always be alluring!

Concluding thoughts:

I am not sad to not go everywhere in the world. I am massively happy that we have been given a world that as hard as a person tried, they could never reach the devastating position of having “seen it all”. I like it that some things are left to the imagination, because imagination can give so much delight! When we hear or read a tale, unbidden our mind builds worlds of pictures, pictures that seem deep with concept, feeling and wonder. I love it that for me, the ideas of the frozen Far North, where snow-covered forests are filled with bison, wolves and bears and the huge ice covered rivers lead out into a stark endless sunset tundra, are just that for me, just ideas. Ideas huge in their aura of mystery and wonder. Enriching me even without a physical encounter.

We look forward to getting home and watching some David Attenborough documentaries, reading more tales of daring exploration in the Himalaya and Pamir, finding out about recent Chinese history, keeping tabs on dam projects on the Mekong and finding “terra incognito” on the rough tracks behind Swampy Summit, Dunedin. So many ways to love and delight in this fascinating world. Our bicycle journey this year has given us questions, encouragements, sadnesses, curiosities, revelations. We have been challenged and enriched by experiencing the world in this way, and when we are back home we will carry all this with us, although we’re still unsure all the ways that that will play out. For certain, we will continue to find delight both in the intoxicating aura of the world's distant wonderlands, and in exploring the terra incognito that is there for the finding not that far from the back doorstep.

Anna

The Hills of Northern Laos

Bullet Points:

- We rode across the Vietnam - Laos border at Dien Bien Phu to enter northern Laos.
- We spent one week cycling on the quiet hilly main roads and then a dirt backroad to get to the city of Luang Prabang.
- Our route was Namnga, Muang Khoua, Pak Nam Noi, Oudomxay, Pakmong, Nong Khiaw, Viang Kham, Sam Soun, Pakxeng, Luang Prabang.
- After a couple of days resting in Luang Prabang we now coninue our ride south towards Vientiane.

A Laos Morning

I think a part of me will be

always

riding these roads.

This morning cool air on my bare arms and

breakfast in my belly,

a hill under my wheels. Heart, lungs, legs

working strong and clean.

Bright morning mist glowing around me,

lip prickling droplets as I turn my face upwards seeing

white giving way to hot blue.

Smells of vegetation,

sounds of birds and people

calling out as they work.

Happy sounds.

And around the corner the happiest – is it not

for us all? –

Children’s brightness, speedy hands waving, clear voices

calling, bare

feet running in the soft dusty verges.

Scurries and shining grins, a giggle.

And the youngest

watching steadily, small feet planted squarely on the earth,

all that is solemn in their large eyes and careful quiet

greeting. Fresh in reverence at the

sacredness of a meeting.

Here

where I am riding these roads forever and

this morning.

 Anna

First Impressions of Laos

The reports we'd heard had all been rave reviews: "so peaceful," "very friendly," "highlight of South East Asia,""cycling paradise." So it was with pretty high expectations that we crossed the border last week, if also with some uncertainty about just how well we could really find all these claims met. It took all of about five minutes to realise that there was a huge difference on the roads - a near absense of motorbikes, or of any traffic at all. It really was peaceful, and we relaxed very happily into cycling the empty roads with a backing track of bird song and insects in place of the motorbike engines and tooting. Any stress left from the last week oozed off us into the quiet bush-covered land.

This legend of Laos friendliness was the next one to be overwhlemingly verified. As we rode into the first bamboo and thatch village we were greeted with the greatest celebrity welcome one could wish for, with children leaping up from their games and appearing from behind or within huts to greet us with calls of "Sa-bai-deeeeee!" (hello), sometimes followed up by the boldest spokespeople with "Thank you! Okay!! I love you!" This was accompanied by the most physically rigourous arm waving I've encountered. The adults, while not so flamboyant in their welcome, were equally warm in their returns of "Sa-bai-deee" as they worked, cooked or sat gathered in groups in the shade of their doorways.

So far in northern Laos we have seen people living with less of the mod-cons than we encountered in neighbouring Vietnam. A lot of cooking is done over open fires, a large number of houses are built of natural materials (wood, bamboo, palm), loads are carried by foot and a lot of back breaking labour appears to be put into gathering and processing by hand certain plant crops. Interestingly, alongside this we have noticed a greater international presence, with offices of NGOs such as World Vision, European Union marked trucks, Chinese road and dam building projects and China-Laos partnership hospitals and buses. After our time here, we will watch with interest how Laos develops in the next years and decades. Laos was known from the 14th to the 18th century as "Xan Lang", which translates to "Land of a Million Elephants", and we've learnt that it's rich forests have also been home to tigers, bears, monkeys, gibbons, snakes, rhinos, bats and a multitude of birds. The government has set aside a number of National Biodiversity Conservation Areas in an effort to protect these, but of course there are also significant pressures from deforestation for timber and farming, population growth, hydroelectric projects and mineral exploration. While we have enjoyed the bush-clad hills and relatively clear looking rivers, we have seen some of these pressures and realised it is not quite the unspoilt jungle paradise I had half hoped to find.

The main two cautionary notes that sat alongside the rave reviews from cycle tourists were that in Northern Laos there are a LOT of hills, and that food can be a bit scant. So we entered the country well stocked up with Vietnamese snack bars and back-up instant noodles, but quickly embraced the local specialty here, sticky rice. We have marvelled at its incredible qualities. It sits in the stomach like a happy brick, leaving you feeling full even after its energy-giving properties have well expired. It has a wonderful clumping ability in its stickiness, so that it is best eaten as finger food, pulling off pieces and dipping them in chilli sauce. It is sold in half-kilogram lumps for 80cents a pop, and can be taken as a takeaway lunch in small plastic bags. We have also enjoyed omelettes, noodle soups and the occasional bread roll, but they can't compete with the fill-for-money qualities of sticky rice!

The hills have been formidable at times, but wonderful. We really are passionate hill-cycle tourers, to the point where I'm a little anxious how I will find the upcoming flat lands of southern Laos and Cambodia. The bicycles though will be glad of some flatter land coming up I think, with signs of wear and age now coming rather thick and fast. Although we have replaced Ollie's bottom bracket, the rims, brakes, pedals and tires are all keeping us on our toes! Anyway, before we quite hit those flat lands, we have three more days of spectacular sounding hills as we make our way south towards the capital city Vientiane. I can't wait!

Anna

Chuc Mung Nam Moi!

Bullet points

-North West Vietnam provided us with a few more days and a few more km’s of lovely cycling.

-We had the bottom bracket (the piece where your pedal cranks pivot around) break down on Ollie’s bike. This took a week and a whole bunch of bus journeys, problem solving and patience to get replaced.

-We have now entered Laos, our 14^th country of the trip. It is a splendid place to be!

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“Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

In our minds cycling through Northern Vietnam would consist of two phases; the first stretching north from Hanoi up to Lao Cai, a city bordering China on the banks of the great Red River; and the second phase from Lao Cai through Vietnam’s tallest mountains and then south to Dien Bien, our gateway to cross the border into Northern Laos. As it turned out things weren’t quite that simple!

Life in the fast lane. Descending  from Vietnam's high places. Sapa.

Temporarily lost on a backroad near Lao Cai

Contemplative valley riding. Lai Chau to Muong Lay.

On Jan 30^th the Vietnamese saw in their New Year. The ‘Tet’ holiday is the biggest event of the year and in the days and weeks beforehand we’d witnessed their preparations. Families were gathering, blossom and mandarin trees were being carted around on every motorbike, fattened pigs were being killed, and apparently gold fish and budgies were being released.

Typical Vietnamese rural scene

 As is the sad case with many folk, I saw in the New Year crouched over a toilet bowl hurling out the contents of my lunch. No alcohol had I consumed, not even a shot of rice wine, just a seemingly innocent Chicken noodle soup that turned out to be not so innocent after all. The Vietnamese were singing, fireworks were exploding, and I was rushing between my bed and the bathroom, violently emptying my stomach. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!” (“Happy New Year!”)

Jan 31^st dawned sunny and clear and my little bug appeared to have passed, the Chicken Noodle soup had all but passed out of me. From Lai Chau we cycled off into the new year, a little weak but in good spirits. The first 80km went well enough and then with a ‘clunk’ and a ‘crack’ and the tell tale wobble of my pedals I ground to a halt. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

My bottom bracket had decided that after offering its services for 13 000km it had done enough, it’s journey was over. I can’t complain really, that’s a fair few pedal revolutions it’s allowed me to do. But to carry on our way we’d have to find another, so the search for bottom bracket number two began. We set to work!

To sum it up in brief, we pushed bikes up hills, we waited for buses, we spent unplanned nights in unmarked villages, we rode on long haul bus journeys, we waited for bike parts to arrive, we navigated the chaos that is Hanoi once more, and we bartered and begged in chaotic bus yards to get us and our bikes on journeys at a time when all of Vietnam seemed to be traveling. The whole week has been a patience-testing, problem-solving fiasco. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

Wating for a bus. This one never arrived.

 “No bus to Dien Bien.” I couldn’t believe what I was being told. 36 hours earlier this same woman had assured me buses would leave at 6pm and 7pm from this station to Dien Bien. After a bit of fossicking and haggling it really did appear there were NO buses to Dien Bien.

“Take bus number 16 to My Dinh,” said another women, My Dinh being another station in Hanoi, a long way from where we were, in a direction we did not know, in a city of 9 million, in the middle of a chaotic public holiday. Bus 16 being an overcrowded local bus which we didn’t stand a chance of getting on with our bikes. With no map and no ideas we were stumped. “Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

Stumped that is until Anna and I both simultaneously had the same stroke of genius. If we can’t ride on the bus…let’s ride behind the bus! As Bus 16 rolled out of the yard we were hot in pursuit. For 12 crazy kilometres we sprinted and halted, we inhaled hot and stinky bus exhaust, we hollered and giggled, and as night fell we arrived victorious at My Dinh station…only to find all buses to Dien Bien were booked.

“Please come back tomorrow sir. No we cannot sell you a ticket. Chuc Mung Nam Moi!”

Hot on the tail of Bus # 16

 By the end of Thursday Feb 6^th we were relieved to have escaped the clutches of Hanoi and be back in Dien Bien with functioning bikes, feeling like we’d completed something special. We honestly felt victorious and quite proud of our efforts and the fact that at no point had we completely lost the plot despite running into hurdle after hurdle! On Friday Feb 7^th we rode out of Vietnam and into Laos, the work of the last week made our entry oh soooo sweeeet!! 

Celebratory feasting on western goodness. Medicinal for recovering stomachs.

Not the most remarkable photo at first glance but the first opportunity we've ever had to photograph a border post. Usually they're surrounded by armed guards, this time we had to rouse the slumbering guard from his post-lunch siesta!

Finally we've arrived in Laos!

 Chuc Mung Nam Moi!! Thankyou Vietnam for a Tet New Year we will savour forever!!

20 metres later...a flat tyre! What a welcome!

 Afterword

HUGE thank you to Hazel Murray for showering us with warm hospitality and great home cooking during our spontaneous stay in Hanoi and for pointing us to some great shops where we could indulge in some yummy treats!! This bike-breaking cloud most certainly had a silver lining! Thanks!

Ollie

Winding mountain lanes of Northern Vietnam: A Photo Story

Bullet Points:

- We cycled north out of Hanoi eight days ago
- We have cycled on small roads through the mountain country of the far northern provinces of Vietnam: Thai Nguyen, Bac Can, Cao Bang and Ha Giang.
- We are now in Ha Giang town, and will head west towards Sapa and Dien Bien Phu.

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Day Two and the quiet lanes begin

Every morning for breakfast we buy "banh me trung" (egg in bread) from a roadside stall

Babe Lake, Babe National Park

Ollie fixes a rare puncture under audience pressure

Our shortcut becomes a beautiful dirt lane

A clear blue day in the mountains

New friends who watch us as we munch our morning tea

They load the buses hard! They offered to take us, but we thought riding looked more comfortable!

A winding route through the karst land

Big climbs with big views

Morning market vendors, Bao Lac.

Market day, Ma Na Phong, Bao Lac

Brighter than your Kiwi motorbiking outfit

Village, Bao Lac - Meo Vac road

Carrying loads, Meo Vac

Company for the beginning of the ascent up Ma Pi Leng Pass

Climbing Ma Pi Leng

Climbing Ma Pi Leng

Some pretty tough people have made these rugged mountains their homes

Descending to Dong Van

River riding on the Yen Minh - Quan Ba road

Bright warmth again as we descend Quan Ba Pass

Hanoi

Bullet Points

-On January 9th we flew from Barcelona to Hanoi.
-After an awesome week with my sister Monica in Hanoi we have departed to cycle around Northern Vietnam and in 2-3 weeks plan to cross the border into Northern Laos.

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In a bizarre change of direction and continent we touched down in Hanoi, Vietnam, a long way and a far cry from Barcelona. We felt victorious after nearly 48 hours of connecting metros, trains, buses and flights, and must say a huge thank you to Adela, our friend in Spain, for helping us through the logistical challenge of carrying our boxed up bikes to the airport.

Within five minutes of arriving at our hostel in the old quarter of Hanoi my sister Monica appeared outside the front door, our rendezvous a highly anticipated occasion. Anna and I had seen no family, in fact nobody at all that we knew previously, since leaving NZ on April 8^th. Monica’s been living and working in Hanoi since early November, being a ‘local’ she has come to know her way around pretty darn well. She’s also a little bundle of energy and enthusiasm and the three of us have had an amazing week together. We’re feeling very lucky!

With a population of around 7-8 million Hanoi is a lively place to visit and has a cheerful vibe about it. The air is undeniably heavily polluted, but on the flip side the city is blessed with a myriad of cute little lakes and parks, and in a great piece of town planning many of it’s streets are lined with rows of great leafy trees growing over to form long archways of greenery. The streets that we experienced were kept surprisingly clean and amazingly free of the funky smells you might expect with such a density of population!

Our week has consisted of buzzing through the crowded streets, following Mon on our bikes, amidst the sea of motorbikes, moving from one great eatery to another, sampling a great range of delicious Vietnamese foods, and chatting over a great range of topics. We’ve also loved just watching life go on by, so many curious and entertaining things I’ve not seen before. Things like enmasse exercises, aerobics and dancing in the park, young boys trying to repair Anna’s jandals as she walks, babies squeezed between parents on motorbikes, crashed U.S. war planes in stagnant lakes, a whole city curfew at 11pm, and themed streets where all shops sell identical products. Space feels like it’s in short supply in Hanoi, for the first time ever we were regularly charge a small fee to park our bikes, most restaurants had chairs and tables the size of pre-school kids furniture, footpaths were so filled with eateries and vendors that anybody walking is forced to brave the road. Road traffic spills over onto the footpaths and foot traffic spills onto the road! We’ve loved it. The week has been an extremely precious time and Mon has given us a very good initiation to the country. Massive thanks Mons!! After seven days of fun today it was time load up the bikes again, to leave the nest and venture forth! To North Vietnam we have embarked and by the sounds of it some very hilly adventures await us.

Ollie

Journey: A brief film account of a 9 month cycle adventure

Finishing

Bullet points:
- We cycled from Tafraout west to Plage Aglou and Mirleft on the Atlantic Coast.
- We enjoyed some time and New Years festivities there.
- We now catch a bus north to Tanger, catch the ferry to Barcelona, and fly from there to Hanoi.
- We will spend time in Hanoi with Ollie's sister Monica, then spend about ten weeks cycling south through Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia, before flying home to NZ on the 25th March.

  

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Along the last 11km

How does one ride the last 11km to the Atlantic? The last 11km to the attaining of their goal? For 9 months we have been riding and there has always been land out there to the west to be explored. For a long time our initial plan of riding to Istanbul and a vague “beyond” had evolved into a type of “coast to coast” from the Pacific to the Atlantic. A great thing to aim for, adding some direction to our sometimes rather circuitous wanderings.

And now, as I read the road sign, “Plage Aglou 11km” I know the end really is nigh, and I don’t know what I feel. I am aware of the beautiful importance of this time, and I look around me at the square pink houses and dry pale hills rolling under a bright blue sky, and I savour the place and the moment. I feel reminiscent with almost a weight of all the memories, experiences, encounters and kilometres of road stretching out behind me, a snail’s silvery trail through the land and a forever blazed trail in my own heart. And alongside this I feel a little anxious, anxious that we seem in immanent danger of achieving our goal! Really a very scary thing! How does one finish a thing? How does one ride there, and arrive?

Sometimes it is more simple. Riding for Dushanbe as the finish of the Pamir Highway we had no such qualms about reaching a goal. Exhausted and drained by days spent at altitude, battling head winds, giardia, mid-40°C heat and a lack of decent food, we were hanging out for our Dushanbe finish line and we welcomed it with open arms, falling happily into its luxuries of vegies, meat, showers, fan and a couch.

Here in Morocco though, no great physical deprivations are hastening our pedal strokes in desperation towards the finish. All is very pleasant and very good. No, this is a different kind of finish. We finish here, now, because it is the time to finish; we have chosen a place, and drawn a line in the sand as they say, and now boldly we must claim this finish although we cannot fully comprehend it. “Sad, sad!” I hear the voice of the free spirit inside me, “Let no lines form your movements, don’t be hampered by such chains, even of your own making. Drift along all the winding roads that entice you!” But there are other voices I have chosen to listen to, and I choose them again. Voices telling me that to recognize “enough” is important, and that reaching always for more of a good thing is not always the best way to enjoy a good thing.

However, I probably need to stop here, as I can anticipate the odd chuckle from some of you at me philosophizing on these topics. As the practical among you may be considering, our “line in the sand” is quite literally a line in the sand, the sand of the coast where the land runs out, so our finishing here may seem to be more of a necessity enforced by the laws of geography than a humble and grateful claiming of “enough!”. Others may very rightly point out that we are travelling on even beyond this line in the sand, heading to South East Asia for ten more weeks cycling before we really head home, and may question just which of those inner voices I’m actually following! This would all be quite justified, and I venture no defence.

I only say that for us this is a finish. It is the finish of a wonderful and extended period of journeying, and that the reaching of this point has brought us both expected and unexpected feelings and discoveries. Finishing is a strange thing, and achieving goals can be scary as well as glorious. So we are toasting is with CocaColas and kofta sandwiches, burying our toes in the wet shining sand, taking photos, writing thoughts, and holding each other close, in the trust that in time we will make sense of it all, but for now our job is to live it. 

Anna

Finishing celebrations

Reaching the goal of the Atlantic Ocean we did miss having friends and family to share this with (in the flesh I mean; we treasure your lovely and fun emails!). But like so many times on our trip, we have again been treated by wonderful people meeting us at the right time, welcoming us, offering kindness and enrichening our time greatly. 

Reaching the Atlantic!!!!

Alain met us as we were trying to photograph ourselves by the "Plage Aglou" sign, took a much better photograph and in an enthusiastic whirlwind of gestures and excited French, dragged us to where he and his wife Madeleine were camping and set us up in the spot beside him, gave us their deckchairs and table, and kept checking with a huge smile and thumbs up to see that we were relaxing and enjoying our well earned rest! Madeleine, with a bit more English, asked us question about our travels, and pulled out her world map to track it, with all the wonderfully heart/ego warming exclamations to go with it! 

Enjoying the table and chairs from our kind neighbours at Plage Aglou. Somehow we missed getting a photo of them

New Years Eve we were in another campervan park in Mirleft, with some spuds and eggs to cook up and a bottle of Coke to celebrate (no beer of wine in the shops here!). In a lovely, natural way our Danish neighbours Karl, Hanna and their son Aster had us join them first for wine, then smoked salmon, an apple-fed pork dish and later champagne, all totally top class food they had brought down from their home. They own a resturant on a small Danish Island, where they treat guests to fine local organic foods, and going by the taste we got of their cuisine and their hospitality, I think it must be a wonderful place! We had a lovely New Years with them, enjoying talking over aspects of our journey and our homeland, and hearing about their home and country. Interesting stuff!

Hanna, Aster, Karl and I ushering in 2014

Then third and finally, Elizabeth and her husband Chris met us in the local shop, and asked questions that we were happy to answer about where we'd cycled from, followed up by handshakes and warm "congratulations"! They have been living in Rabat, Morocco for two and a half years, where Chris works at the American Embassy, Elizabeth teaches English and their youngest son attends school. They invited us for a New Year's breakfast at their holiday spot, and we spent a lovely time eating the most wonderful fruit salad, yoghurt, homemade muesli, toasted bread, chorizo, eggs, guacamole and orange juice! What a treat for us! So interesting to hear of their experiences in the foreign service, mobile around the world in a much more long-term way than us. We loved the warm and relaxed company of them and their two sons, it was lovely to be with a family like this.

Beginning 2014 with a breakfast for kings and queens!

A better photo with our new friends Chris, Andrew, Peter, Elizabeth and us

Dropping two small shells from Aramoana Beach, Pacific Ocean into the Atlantic. We have carried a bag of these shells with us on our journey, and given a number as thank you tokens from our homeland to people along the way.

Anna