A Journey Through Wood: My Woodworking Experience in New Zealand
So, there I was, sitting in my makeshift workshop—which, let’s be honest, is just a glorified corner of my garage—sipping on a cup of what I optimistically call coffee, and thinking about my woodworking journey. I’ve had a bit of experience with tools and wood over the years, but let me tell you, the courses I took on my trip to New Zealand went beyond anything I could’ve dreamed—or maybe that’s more of a nightmare, depending on how you look at it.
The Call of the Timber
New Zealand! I mean, come on, it’s practically a dreamland for anyone who loves the outdoors and nature. I went there mostly for the scenery—the mountains, the lakes, the sheep (so many sheep)—but I ended up enrolling in a couple of woodworking courses. It seemed like a fun way to embrace the local culture. Plus, if it all went south, at least I’d have a good story to tell.
I’ll never forget the smell of the native woods when I first stepped into that workshop. It was like a warm hug, if you know what I mean. The striking blonde tones of kauri and the rich deep colors of rimu filled the air, and I felt like I’d entered a magical forest where tools became instruments of creativity. I swear I could almost hear the wood whispering, “Come on, let’s create something beautiful together.”
The Good, The Bad, and The Shaky Start
Now, I had my fair share of mishaps. The first day, they handed me a chisel. You know, simple enough—just a chisel, right? But, of course, I managed to slip at the very moment I was supposed to make a precise cut. Nothing quite like that moment when your hand shakes and you realize your perfect piece of rimu is now sporting a bite taken out of it, kind of like a wood version of a bad haircut.
I almost gave up there. I figured, “This is it; I’m just a hobbyist. What am I doing here?” But then I remembered how far I’d come and how you often get these little bumps on the road before you hit the smooth asphalt again.
Lessons in Patience
After a few days, I finally caught a break. I was working on a simple table project—nothing fancy, just a rustic style that I thought would look great in my home. The instructor suggested using traditional hand tools, which was a bit daunting to me. I mean, who uses hand planes these days anyway? But I got my hands on a beautiful record hand plane, and let me tell you, it felt good. It was almost like holding a piece of history.
The ache in my arms was real, though! I was sweating and huffing, questioning my life choices, wondering why I didn’t just stick to watching YouTube videos from the comfort of my couch. But then came that moment when I finished planing a piece of wood, and I could actually run my hand across it without snagging. Woo boy, you better believe I smiled like an idiot.
Fumbling Towards a Finish
Now, don’t get me started on the finishing process. Oh, my heavens… I had envisioned this gorgeous, gleaming table when it was all said and done. But there I was, slathering on a coat of tung oil like I was spreading peanut butter. I thought I’d done it just right, but instead, it looked more like… well, like a toddler had gone to town with a can of paint.
At that moment, I laughed, a full, hearty laugh. I could just hear my friends back home saying, “Didn’t you have that planned out?” Spoiler alert: I didn’t. But jokes aside, it was one of those moments where you realize that perfection is overrated. Woodworking is about the journey—about finding joy in the failures and learning along the way.
The Come Together
After much sanding and more cursing than I’d like to admit, I finally got a finish I was proud of. It’s not perfect, but who wants perfect, right? I finished the table and felt a sense of accomplishment wash over me. I mean, I made it with my own two hands! The knots and the imperfections gave it character—much like us humans, after all.
On the last day of the course, we all gathered to show off our projects. It was inspiring to see all the creativity set against the backdrop of our little workshop. Each piece had its quirks, and we’d all had our struggles, but the smiles and pride that lit up our faces were undeniable.
A Peaceful Conclusion
Now, sitting back at home with my table proudly displayed, I can’t help but feel grateful for that experience. Those woodworking courses in New Zealand taught me more than just skills with tools and lumber. They taught me about resilience, patience, and the joy of creating something with my own hands—even when it doesn’t go to plan.
So, if you’ve been thinking about picking up a chisel or giving woodworking a shot, just go for it. Embrace the mess, the mistakes, and the joy of it all. Because, at the end of the day, it’s about more than wood—it’s about life and the stories we carve along the way. You might just surprise yourself!
