Bicycle Safari to St. Omer’s Pier

My third day living at Raetihi Lodge came with a lovely surprise – a day off. With nothing but time on my hands, I thought I’d get a little dirt on on them too. I decided to go exploring. I hopped on a bicycle and headed East towards the Nopera farm to find out if any eggs were available for purchase.


The local golf course. Seriously. Nine sheeply holes.

At the farm, there is an ‘honesty box’ where eggs can be purchased. The family puts a carton of eggs in the box and leaves a small jar for consumers to place a $5 bill in exchange. Unfortunately for me, the Nopera’s were egg-less on this day.


I found a sleeping bird in the middle of the road zZzZzZzZz sleepy bird.

With clouds in the sky, the wind in my face, and zero eggs in my basket, my day was doomed before it had begun. I heard about St. Omer’s abandoned resort just a little further down the road, so I figured, what the hell, things could only go up from here.


Handlebars and brakes conveniently falling apart 5km away from home.

I was right, things did go up – uphill. With my bicycle shot to shit, and adversity on my shoulders, I pressed on towards St. Omer’s.


Goofy helmets are compulsory in NZ; dumb faces are optional.

I came to a wooden sign that read “St. Omer’s Rd” and continued down the path. A coworker of mine told me she usually leaves her bicycle just passed the fence, so I knew what I was looking for.

I came to two wooden posts with a chain in-between to keep vehicles from entering. I knew I had reached my final destination.


The security guards must be ghosts because I couldn’t see ’em.

The walk down to the pier brought a slight discomfort to me. I think it’s because I heard there are wild pigs out here, with tusks or horns or whatever. I kept thinking one was going to pierce my femoral artery and cause me to bleed out. Maybe I’ve been watching too much television.

As I walked down the pathway, my uneasiness came to an end. Through the bushes I could see something promising. A small gazebo lay ahead that looked weathered, but tasteful.

I didn’t expect this lovely shack to be set up here in the middle of nowhere. It caught my attention for a brief moment, until I turned out towards the water and saw this:



St. Omer’s jetty was like something out of National Geographic. It was picturesque in nature, and the fact that it was abandoned made it even more pleasing to gawk at.


The water is more vibrant in this one because of Instagram filters. #Ilikewater

St. Omer’s resort was just a short walk own from the jetty here. When I walked up to it through this beautiful archway, I was nervous that there was going to be someone around the corner. The whole environment had an eerie feeling to it.



I walked up and saw the resort. It didn’t look terrible and it certainly didn’t look abandoned. I was anticipating smashed windows, caved in roofs, and portions of the building to be burnt down.


St. Omer’s Resort

Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised. The garden was well kept and flourishing, and the building itself wasn’t too shabby either. I crept up to the window and peered inside. With its spooky vibe, I half expected a face to be looking back at me when I looked inside St. Omer’s. Instead, I saw this:

IMG_4998My first thoughts were “No f***in’ way!” If I could have expected a second creepy thing to be inside those windows, it would have been dolls. As you can probably guess, I instantly decided to GTFO of there ASAP. I thought the folks from The Hills Have Eyes were gonna capture me on my way outta there. If you’re reading this, you know that was not the case, because I wrote this. If I was dead I would not have been able to write this. Silly goose =D

On that day, I learned that life is like this shitty volleyball net:



Just because it seems a little rough, doesn’t mean it’s complete shit. It means it just needs a little sprucing up, just like this shitty boat on the side of the road:



All these shitty little things, combined to give me a superb day; a day in which I saw so much beauty come out of so much rubbish.

Cheers to seeing what’s beyond the surface.



Kusz, out!

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