When I was cooking in Sande’s kitchen and listening to Louis Armstrong blaring on the stereo, I discovered I wasn’t the only non - paying guests at the inn.
A mouse had made his home behind the oven, and a family rodents was harbored below my cabin. I pretended to not see the critters, but kept all food bags tightly sealed and my backpack locked shut. Two ducks also meandered around the yard, unperturbed by Bear the friendly giant dog. The rocky shore was also home to seals, but they weren’t around during my short stay.
The second day I was in Granity, and after I had returned from a four-hour hike, three female German wwoofers arrived and the happy Sands began to sink.
The kind, albeit intoxicated, Sande became irritable and unpredictable. After dinner she barked at the girls for not being energetic about dishes then returned 10 minutes later and told us how much she appreciated our work and hoped we enjoyed our stay.
She never addressed me when she was upset, instead she created a "me" and "them" dynamic that left me feeling like a one of the giant rocks out in the ocean being hit from all sides by the waves. Between Sande and the new arrivals I was pushed and pulled. I was Sande's go-to girl, and I safely maneuvered the Germans around the crazy moods of the Kiwi. They looked to me for translations and chores, and I felt responsible for their well being. Sande starting calling me the “Head wwoofer” when we were all together and I made apologies for the Pedi stool she’d placed me on.
During the third day, it was raining outside, so I’d decided to bake bread. Sande discovered I was toiling away, no matter how voluntary, and decided the girls needed to help. She shuffled them out of the cabin and into the kitchen where I was forced to delegate jobs that didn’t exist (the bread was rising).
Finally the eggs shells began to crack under our feet and an escape was planned. The girls would be leaving before breakfast and I was free to join them or stay behind. I chose to leave the negative environment, tired of the tumultuous moods and behaviors (I never knew which version of Sande would be walking into the room), but I made my peace before departing.
Over a two page note, a long hug, and a loaf of fresh baked bread I said goodbye, and wished Sande well.
Once again I was on the road heading about 200 km south to Ross, where a young couple in their thirties, with a toddler, agreed to host me on very short notice.
I traveled two hours with a family of five from Denmark, and stopped twice to check out tourists spots with them. The kids didn’t know English but they enjoyed staring at me and showing me their pokeman book.
Later, as I was passing through the city of Greymouth, an older couple was exiting their parked car to do some Christmas shopping.
“Wet day for traveling,” the man said (it had been raining all day).
“Yep. You wouldn’t be heading to Hokitaka would you?”
They proceeded to drive me thirty minutes out of their way, without getting their errands run, so I could get to Ross. Apparently they were spending their retirement helping strangers, and posting presents to their grand kids.
My new hosts, Lynn and her son Nicko arrived in a white car and drove me 3 km to their home where Brian was waiting to greet us all.
After a hot shower and cup of tea, we became acquainted with one another while building boxes. They only new me for one hour before they trusted me to work with a hammer and nails.
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