The Secret Hut and Other Stories

I have a new friend named Erin. She's a 28 year old Canadian gal who biked into Akaroa four years ago and has basically been here ever since. Her first month here, she met a local boy, Tim, and he courted her and wooed her and when she left for Canada six months later, he followed her. Now, they spend Canada summers in Canada and NZ summers in NZ. Ideal, no?

Tim and Erin started a company called On 2 Wheels, which is a bike tour service that only operates in the summer. They put you and your bike in their van, drive you up to the top of a nearby hill, and let you out, free to cruise down the other side of the hill to Le Bons Bay, a lovely beach spot nearby. When you get there, they have lunch and wine set out for you. I think it's a three hour trip in all. LEAVE THE HILLS TO US! is their slogan. I like, I like!

I was on my way home the other day when Erin popped out of Vangioni's (she works there occasionally as a favor to Steve, who happens to be Tim's best friend from growing up). Ellen! I have the best idea. I want to take you to our secret hut. Wanna come? Please, please, pulease!? It'll be so fun! (Erin is a personal trainer on the side, and she has one of those incredibly energetic personalities.)

So about twenty minutes later I was in Tim and Erin's On 2 Wheels van, riding out to the secret hut. When I first met Tim and Erin, she mentioned that they were living in a camper van on a piece of property that Tim's mom owns. They had just returned from their North American summer, and Erin was spending her days cleaning out the camper van, getting it liveable again.

Well, as it turns out, their "camper van" is code word for this adorable little one room hut they have built themselves. I guess in order to build such a hut - something that has a kitchen and that you intend to live in permanently - you technically need a building or residential permit of some kind, and those things cost money. So, whenever they speak of it publicly, it's the "camper van".

(I have a feeling that many locals know about the camper van/hut, but it seems like the kind of place where as long as you don't make anyone mad, no one will try to get you in trouble.)

We parked the van on the side of a winding forest road, about 3 miles outside of Akaroa. We can't take the van down the driveway, Erin said. We can only go down it with four wheel drive. As we started the 10 minute walk down the mud and gravel driveway, Erin and I shared stores about ourselves, and I took in the scenery. With no other houses or humans in sight, we were out in the middle of the forest (the bush as they call it here). The bluish green waters of the bay popped out in between breaks in the trees. Sailboats were out racing, each with a different color sail puffed out in front of them.

When we got to the bottom of the drive, I looked up and saw this itty bitty shack of a thing. This is it! Erin said. The main room of the hut (the only room of the hut) consists of an impromptu kitchen, with mini fridge and stove top, an orange easy chair, a lofted bed, and a turquoise painted wall. It is totally home-made and homey. Upon exiting the room, you can walk around behind it, where there is another, smaller construction - Erin's walk-in closet! Shelves full of clothes and shoes out in the middle of the forest. Unbelievable.

Next to the closet, there's a little area enclosed with a stone wall about waist-high and above, a shower head. Shower with nature. Finding myself needing to use the potty, I told Erin I was going to go off and squat somewhere (I assumed that was the drill). Oh, no! Erin said. Just follow that little path over there. There's a little pedestal of rocks you can stand on - you'll see. So I wandered back there, and sure enough, in a small opening in the trees, sat a large metal barrel of a thing, with a real toilet seat on top, and a stack of stones leaning up against it for access. Perched up there on the little potty, staring out over the bay, was incredibly charming somehow.

So what do you think? Erin asked me when I returned. Do you think you could live like this?

Well, I'm totally jealous, I said. I'd like to think I could live like this, but...I guess it would take some getting used to.

Yeah, Erin said. You know, I've just realized that you really need so little to live. I've got everything I need right here.

She poured me some juice and pulled a couple of fold-out chairs out into a clearing, and we sat and talked and watched the boats chase each other across the bay.

It's nice to have a girlfriend around. There's a loneliness that can seep in, sometimes, and there are some things that you can only talk to your girlfriends about. (Your boyfriend, for example! Just kidding, Bjorn. Hehe.) But seriously, it was so nice to just sit and talk and share stories and relate.

Erin is not what you might think of when you think of someone that lives simply. She wears makeup, has stylish clothes - she walks around Akaroa looking like she might live in NYC. And yet, she lives in this place that has nothing but the essentials - bed, shower, fridge...walk-in closet:)

The hut is the embodiment of this simple life I've imagined off and on over the past couple of years. And faced with it, I'm not sure I could really do it. But it would be an incredible vacation spot. And Erin's told me that we can come up and stay there sometime when they're away. I can't wait to take a shower out in the middle of the forest, staring out over the bay!

Regardless of whether or not I could do it, the place is incredibly cool, and I find it inspiring, too. This hut is the kind of thing that they are gong to look back on when they're fifty and laugh hysterically about, probably. But what a memory to have! The years we started the business and built ourselves a one room hut. It's so imperfect, so against all American ideals, but there's something so earnest and honest about it. I think it's great.

Okay - must go make lunch now. Hope everyone is well! And thanks for all the comments on the last post! I do love the comments. Much love.