Black sand beaches. Just the name sounds exotic. I’ve always wanted to see one and visiting the so-hot-it’s-cool Pacific Ring of Fire, I knew I’d have a chance.
We researched the closest black sand beaches to us in Auckland, New Zealand, knowing we were heading back to Australia that afternoon and needed a good cushion of time to get to the airport. After picking one and navigating to Muriwai beach, we pulled into the mostly empty car park with plenty of time. Mostly empty except for a horse trailer, then another, and then another. Muriwai Beach Horse Treks one had written on the side, hmmm …
Sure, why not, let’s ask. Yep, within a few minutes we found out an excursion was about to leave and for basically the price of “all our remaining New Zealand dollars,” we could join in if we’d like to. Well, the only other thing we could exchange our Kiwi dollars for was Australian dollars, so this seemed like a great bargain.
Putting Taylor and Marci in the galloping group and me in the 9-yr.-old-girl’s-birthday-party-group, we headed out. They sat astride horses with names, I’m guessing, like Spitfire and Daredevil; I rode out on Strawberry.
We plodded along a gorgeous, misty and mystical black sand beach, then turned inland. It was a lovely trek and my German guide, who lives in New Zealand had spent a year just north of Lansing, Michigan. Strawberry, however, was born and raised locally; no traveling for her, thank you very much. She followed the other horses even when I politely requested that she go elsewhere and NOT soak my feet, shoes and pant legs in the creek.
After two hours (maybe an hour too long for Strawberry’s slow, lumbering tastes) we reconnected again with the galloping group, wind in their hair, smiles on their faces, the joy of adrenaline stoked by fierce runs on black sand beaches pumping through their veins.
Taylor was late for her flight so we hopped off our steeds, or strawberries, and hoofed it for the airport. Our flights — Taylor’s back to Sydney, ours to Melbourne — were on lavish Emirates Air. These were the best flights I believe I’ve ever had; Corian sinks and bamboo toilet seats in the washrooms, nice looking wood trim around each window, yummy curried meals with free beer and wine, and the obligatory sky hostesses in their Dubai-themed uniforms and headscarf/hats.
Surely I smelled like horse still. A sweet young attendant asked what I’d like to drink and when I said lemonade, she handed me a 7-Up. Wait, what? Since lemonade here is carbonated, that’s all she knew; that’s what they call it. Darn, it sort of takes the healthy nature of lemon and sugar water down a few pegs when you realize it’s just 7-Up.
I decided not to push it and ask for a strawberry lemonade.
I am an acute myelogenious leukemia survivor too. Diagnosed 25 years ago next month. Went to Emory Hospital December of same year of diagnosis 1992 for a bone marrow transplant. Age 43 at that time and just turned 68 last February. One of my sisters was my blood match. My two daughters were ten and sixteen then and are 35 and 41 now. My husband, Joe, has been my rock and his mother was dying of breast cancer at same time I was diagnosed. She does ed before I had my transplant. We had a tough couple of years but after both daughters married and have given us four wonderful grandchildren,
we have all lived fully and rarely look back. I am very grateful for my doctors, transplant team, family and friends who rallied around me when I needed them the most. My faith was tested and I never doubted His hands throughout the good and bad days. Thank you for using your writing skills and sense of humor to tell your story to benefit all who read you ur books!
Elzabeth Mulligan
It’s great hearing from people who had transplants decades ago! Thanks for sharing, Elizabeth. (And thanks for the compliment).
Perfect beach, perfect photos, perfect story! You and Strawberry look so lovely in the last picture. I would love to go on a trip like this with my horses and friends! Thanks!