After Fleurs, I drove north to Omaru, Timaru and then inland to visit an old school friend of Jasper's (Geoff). Stan was as happy to see me as I was to see him. We started talking and it never stopped till we went to bed. Stan was a surveyor and knows boundaries and edges well. Also a Quaker and renovating the cottage he is living in for his daughter who lives in Washington DC. The cottage has lots of light streaming in, a very low ceiling in one spot, but a very long bath.
Watched Rowan Atkinson make a fool of himself and then called Scotland. Geofsper was also happy to hear from us, under the threat of evacuation due to mudslides, he expressed some concern for his health. I hope to visit, Stan wants HIM to come visit New Zealand.
In the morning conversation continues as we walk the dog around the reserve and Golf Course. I suggest a road trip to Lake Pukaki to view Mt Cook. Stan is up for it so off we go. We sit by Lake Tekapo eating takeaway lunch beside a stone church regarding tourists form all over visiting the site. The water is a remarkable blue, silty from glacier. More birds flapping feathers at the side of the road.
The view of Mt Cook was worth the drive. Stan hasn't seen it years, it is so often shrouded in cloud. We both take more pictures than necessary, then cruise along beside the canal. We drive up to the Mt John Observatory. The wind is howling, the view magnificent and Stan buys me a Chai while he talks up the star expert from the university. I write a postcard, and wonder if I will arrive first. Unlikely I have three more weeks.
Knowing now a little about me Stan takes the map and we drive through Beautiful Valley, past hanging Rock Bridge arriving at some overhanging limestone rock formations and Maori Rock Painting. They are well protected with a substantial fence. Eroded and faint they are, nevertheless there to be seen.
Another great dinner and we go for a dog walk up through the pines to the cemetery. Later we explore some word meanings and I deal with my dead bird, discovering the difference between Boric acid and borax. Another late night of deep conversation and when morning comes I am antsy to move on.
Raining hard, I cannot wait to get off the main highway away from the transports and the speed pressure. I take a road to the left inland to head up toward Rakaia Gorge and see another, Waihi Gorge! I follow the camper ahead of me to a very attractive spot, take a few pictures and continue on my way to Geraldine where I find another sweet bell, some chocolate and a place to mail my postcard.
Continuing on from there I eventually arrive at the major crossing of the Waikariri River Rakaia Gorge, Stan had recommended this road as being more interesting, with less traffic. I pull off to take some pictures and a huge tractor arrives to cross the bridge.
Then straight on to Christchurch. I ask some fellows in the car next to me at a light "where's the nearest library?" not far at all. However their wi fi is down and within minutes the power fails on the computers. They send me to another library with good parking. It is clear across town, I find it and get some writing done. No one answers my calls or emails so I look at the map and locate a likely spot. I manage to get there before they lock the gate (as do some folks in a pickup or UT as they call them here, who as they drive by fire off a gun...) Other than that, a quiet night by the river.
Saturday, 13 March 2010
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Bluff, Slope Point and second hand stores
The fire banked for the night, burned steadily and in the morning had consumed the rounds. I sat writing watching the day unfold, wisps of smoke mixing with the fog drifting through the cables on the bridge. A fellow walked over to say hello. An Australian climber, he told me about the deepest lake in NZ 30k away, how much snow and how cold it gets there in winter. He has been here these last 18 months traveling around climbing the mountains. There are so many people on the road here, from so many places.
This journey has turned the corner toward home for me now. Funny how something can trigger so many process's. I felt a sense of completion yesterday. Today as I stood on the rocks in Bluff and a wave washed over my feet, I knew it was over. I head north now, no more south.
Well almost, one more point of pilgrimage, Slope Point. The windblown trees and the eroding cliff gave me a sense of the extremity of the place. I don't know what I expected but seeing someone's home set back from the enormous cliff looking south to Antarctica, sheep studding the landscape, I laughed to myself at how they make it work here, whatever the challenge. The access closed during lambing time. Just another coastline with a farm at the end of the road. The beauty of the place is difficult to describe. Steep rounded hillsides surrounding deep valleys, obviously laboriously cleared at one time covered in pasture stretching away from the sea endlessly inland.
In Bluff I finally allowed myself to check out a second hand store. I have so little will power, a weakness for certain collectibles and a limit on how much stuff I want to fly home. He had no bells."...they go as fast as I get them" he told me. Stoneware Ginger Beer bottles? "Had one last week and sold it dear, the internet is where to look... Try Dunedin and Christchurch"
I followed the Southern Scenic Route along the bottom stopping in Curio Bay; petrified logs and stumps and an amazing surge channel full of giant kelp, to Niagara Falls of New Zealand. Past Cathedral Caves (only accessible at low tide, $5 for parking) numerous waterfalls, gorges and beaches. Blowholes, penguin colonies and petrol stations not open on Sunday or after 6.
Ahuriri Flat, Balclutha, Caberfeidh, and Cannibal Bay, names on signs and the map as I drive relentlessly towards Dunedin.
I stayed that night with Stephen's sister Hilary and husband Bernie. Their house overlooks the harbour and downtown. It felt like being in a hotel. We talked into the night about families and history, vacations and travel. In the morning we spoke about siblings and home and having lunch at Fleurs in Moeraki.
I drove along the water out the Otago penninsula to the Albatross colony. Another spectacular drive metres from the water, through tiny fishing hamlets with very little room for picture taking. I enjoyed seeing a stuffed Albatross and decided not to take the tour. Instead, driving over Highcliff road for more spectacular views, vistas, winding roads, beaches and general amazing scenery. It is difficult for me to describe what it is like to be driving along a very narrow winding road that drops away dramatically in pasture (or at least, grassy hillside) on either one side and sometimes the other, traversed by numerous sheep and ending at an exquisite looking beach seemingly miles below.
I stopped at an auctioneers storefront , found the library and ate Turkish for lunch. Said hello to a fellow traveller I had met twice before (from Barcellona) then went looking for a laundromat. While it was washing I visited 4 or 5 second hand stores, no bells worth buying and no ginger beer bottles.
Had a wonderful dinner and spent the night with William and Mommi up in Mornington. They are searching for a community to call home. I shared what I knew and told a story or two of my travels. More conversation about education and the power of positive intention. I drove on through the fog over railway tracks, past black swans, a blue house with sheep, and a special little second hand shop. I took away a couple of belt buckles, a bell and a lemon for $20.
I had planned on lunch at Fleurs in Moeraki Bay. She wasn't there! But what a place. Had a great chat with Wayne selling coffee and cookies and told him about MKP. I walked around the site, met the sick seal shuffling round the place looking for assistance and had a brief chinwag with a local. The oneway street is a nice touch, population 47.
This journey has turned the corner toward home for me now. Funny how something can trigger so many process's. I felt a sense of completion yesterday. Today as I stood on the rocks in Bluff and a wave washed over my feet, I knew it was over. I head north now, no more south.
Well almost, one more point of pilgrimage, Slope Point. The windblown trees and the eroding cliff gave me a sense of the extremity of the place. I don't know what I expected but seeing someone's home set back from the enormous cliff looking south to Antarctica, sheep studding the landscape, I laughed to myself at how they make it work here, whatever the challenge. The access closed during lambing time. Just another coastline with a farm at the end of the road. The beauty of the place is difficult to describe. Steep rounded hillsides surrounding deep valleys, obviously laboriously cleared at one time covered in pasture stretching away from the sea endlessly inland.
In Bluff I finally allowed myself to check out a second hand store. I have so little will power, a weakness for certain collectibles and a limit on how much stuff I want to fly home. He had no bells."...they go as fast as I get them" he told me. Stoneware Ginger Beer bottles? "Had one last week and sold it dear, the internet is where to look... Try Dunedin and Christchurch"
I followed the Southern Scenic Route along the bottom stopping in Curio Bay; petrified logs and stumps and an amazing surge channel full of giant kelp, to Niagara Falls of New Zealand. Past Cathedral Caves (only accessible at low tide, $5 for parking) numerous waterfalls, gorges and beaches. Blowholes, penguin colonies and petrol stations not open on Sunday or after 6.
Ahuriri Flat, Balclutha, Caberfeidh, and Cannibal Bay, names on signs and the map as I drive relentlessly towards Dunedin.
I stayed that night with Stephen's sister Hilary and husband Bernie. Their house overlooks the harbour and downtown. It felt like being in a hotel. We talked into the night about families and history, vacations and travel. In the morning we spoke about siblings and home and having lunch at Fleurs in Moeraki.
I drove along the water out the Otago penninsula to the Albatross colony. Another spectacular drive metres from the water, through tiny fishing hamlets with very little room for picture taking. I enjoyed seeing a stuffed Albatross and decided not to take the tour. Instead, driving over Highcliff road for more spectacular views, vistas, winding roads, beaches and general amazing scenery. It is difficult for me to describe what it is like to be driving along a very narrow winding road that drops away dramatically in pasture (or at least, grassy hillside) on either one side and sometimes the other, traversed by numerous sheep and ending at an exquisite looking beach seemingly miles below.
I stopped at an auctioneers storefront , found the library and ate Turkish for lunch. Said hello to a fellow traveller I had met twice before (from Barcellona) then went looking for a laundromat. While it was washing I visited 4 or 5 second hand stores, no bells worth buying and no ginger beer bottles.
Had a wonderful dinner and spent the night with William and Mommi up in Mornington. They are searching for a community to call home. I shared what I knew and told a story or two of my travels. More conversation about education and the power of positive intention. I drove on through the fog over railway tracks, past black swans, a blue house with sheep, and a special little second hand shop. I took away a couple of belt buckles, a bell and a lemon for $20.
I had planned on lunch at Fleurs in Moeraki Bay. She wasn't there! But what a place. Had a great chat with Wayne selling coffee and cookies and told him about MKP. I walked around the site, met the sick seal shuffling round the place looking for assistance and had a brief chinwag with a local. The oneway street is a nice touch, population 47.
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Wanaka to the Suspension Bridge
Along the road rabbits streak out dodging my tires. I see a stoat running between shoulder and road, hedgehogs stopped still, playing dead in the middle of the road, some not playing. One littl bunny decides to play chicken but gets away, Marie almost rear ends me. I drive slow, the dust is thick, the washboard unfriendly. We quietly park above the gorge. Marie tells me she likes waking up where she hasn't seen the place in the light. In the night I step outside and hear the owls below along the river. My foot, my nose, my issues all right in front of me. I sleep, I wake, I sleep, I wake up. I write. The sun touches the tops of the ridge in front of me and slowly descends into the valley. Someone drives by then drives back out. The phone rings, Elke, we're dreaming similar themes.
Marie and I walk to the bridge and peer upstream into the gorge, then down. I wonder who it is that lives just past the bridge.It is a special place. Later I find out Stephen swam here with his sisters.
We meet David back in the parking lot in Wanaka and with Roo, walkabout for hot water, coffee and to find my hat which ironically I find that afternoon in my suitcase.
Parting again, Marie is off to pick apples. I lead David and Roo into the Cardrona. Rows of Douglas Fir as well as the ubiquitous pine and an intensely green scotch broom growing here. Groups of cyclists stream past racing somewhere. I see some going my way too. At Crown Terrace David tells me I am blowing black smoke, I add more oil and they go on ahead. Down this incredibly steep incline I go towards Queenstown. A cyclist passes me as we descend. Anarchist Mountain eat your heart out! I saw David's car below me a couple times but then lost them. I turned south to Te Anua.
No sign of Castle Rock, other than a sign... drove roads where I didn't meet a car for more than an hour. Te Anua seems friendly, a lake, swimming spots and many, many tourist ventures being offered. At waters edge a helicopter and plane both being loaded with backpacks and hikers to be dropped somewhere. Get some dressings for my foot, write some blog and have a Chai. In the DOC info centre I meet Alex from Wellington,I go say hello to Martin out in the car. They have done the heaphy, thetrifle the... seems like a series of badges they are collecting. Inside the DOC employee tells me how to get the maps courtesy of Craig Potton's website. The way commercial and park interplay here is different.
I drive on. The road seems endless but the cliffs and steams stimulate my senses. More Doug Fir and broom for miles. When I stop to admire a cliff and hawks flying past I am accosted by a fellow from Auckland telling me rock snot is all through this area. It came from America with some fisherman's gear. Wants to know if I brought some (!?) Then he tells me the locals refer to the legion white vans driving the roadways as "maggots" He's driving a tricked out stepstyle van in yellow with what looks like an actual wood interior. Not exactly inviting, he was camped beside the intake for the Manapouri water supply. A sweet spot. He also told me about the imported Harriers so when I found one later its wings outstretched dried and flapping in the breeze I knew the tide had turned.
A fork in the road, sculpted cliffs and the longest suspension bridge in NZ. When I walked to the river past the fire smouldering into two great rounds of eucalyptus up against a concrete reflector I knew I was home for the night.
Sat quietly listening, popped some corn and had a beer with dinner.
Marie and I walk to the bridge and peer upstream into the gorge, then down. I wonder who it is that lives just past the bridge.It is a special place. Later I find out Stephen swam here with his sisters.
We meet David back in the parking lot in Wanaka and with Roo, walkabout for hot water, coffee and to find my hat which ironically I find that afternoon in my suitcase.
Parting again, Marie is off to pick apples. I lead David and Roo into the Cardrona. Rows of Douglas Fir as well as the ubiquitous pine and an intensely green scotch broom growing here. Groups of cyclists stream past racing somewhere. I see some going my way too. At Crown Terrace David tells me I am blowing black smoke, I add more oil and they go on ahead. Down this incredibly steep incline I go towards Queenstown. A cyclist passes me as we descend. Anarchist Mountain eat your heart out! I saw David's car below me a couple times but then lost them. I turned south to Te Anua.
No sign of Castle Rock, other than a sign... drove roads where I didn't meet a car for more than an hour. Te Anua seems friendly, a lake, swimming spots and many, many tourist ventures being offered. At waters edge a helicopter and plane both being loaded with backpacks and hikers to be dropped somewhere. Get some dressings for my foot, write some blog and have a Chai. In the DOC info centre I meet Alex from Wellington,I go say hello to Martin out in the car. They have done the heaphy, thetrifle the... seems like a series of badges they are collecting. Inside the DOC employee tells me how to get the maps courtesy of Craig Potton's website. The way commercial and park interplay here is different.
I drive on. The road seems endless but the cliffs and steams stimulate my senses. More Doug Fir and broom for miles. When I stop to admire a cliff and hawks flying past I am accosted by a fellow from Auckland telling me rock snot is all through this area. It came from America with some fisherman's gear. Wants to know if I brought some (!?) Then he tells me the locals refer to the legion white vans driving the roadways as "maggots" He's driving a tricked out stepstyle van in yellow with what looks like an actual wood interior. Not exactly inviting, he was camped beside the intake for the Manapouri water supply. A sweet spot. He also told me about the imported Harriers so when I found one later its wings outstretched dried and flapping in the breeze I knew the tide had turned.
A fork in the road, sculpted cliffs and the longest suspension bridge in NZ. When I walked to the river past the fire smouldering into two great rounds of eucalyptus up against a concrete reflector I knew I was home for the night.
Sat quietly listening, popped some corn and had a beer with dinner.
Saturday, 6 March 2010
Hokitika to Wanaka
I spent the day recuperating in Hokitika. Slept some, parked at the beach and wandered around the town. The stone I collected turned out to be serpentine so as I left town, I flung them into the river as I drove across the bridge. Stopped at Ross beach, a windswept piece of real estate next to a gravel pit (it's for sale!, comes with sea view, 2or 3 bedroom home etc). An old fellow his wife and two dogs drive in followed by a large camper/house truck. I think if it is aluminum or vinyl it must NOT be a house truck. Anyway the old guy comes over and we talk; kids, education, government regulations, organic gardening , where I'm from, where he's from (Nelson) quite engaging. Wonderful to connect with someone like that. As we walked back from the beach, our footprints in the sand were almost completely blown away.
I walked alone later along the tideline looking for something, and found it. Lighter than the last piece I picked up, I am weighing both literally and figuratively what I am choosing to keep. And of course on the last day...
Morning, colder and lots of condensation. I am underway, on the road by 9 heading to the Glaciers! Franz Josef has the most hype, helicopters flying up and over all day long. Some offer a view of all the local glaciers. What a trip that would be. I walk slowly up as close as they will let us get, across an immense morraine field, rivers snaking through. The massive cliffs ringing the valley have waterfalls cascading down all around. It doesn't seem possible to get it all in a photo.
I scoot (along with many others) down to the river and snag a piece of thousand year old ice to suck on as I wander back to the parking lot. I manage to say hello to most of the folks passing me by. Some even respond! Then onto Fox. The ground must be even less stable here, there are ropes and signs everywhere. Saying hello pays off, some of the same folks are here too and I manage to get a few conversations happening.
Received a text from Roo. She and David are tramping up in the hills near Wanaka, do I "want to connect tomorrow?" (of course she didn't write it like that). I spend some time and finally figure out how to text. Confirming.
So a major drive ahead of me and no camera batteries again. Oh well!
Bruce Bay had a continous line of stacked rocks along its mile or so road frontage with many stick structures sculpted on the beach itself. And people were stopping to photograph and add to the display.
Haast blows by but on the bridge, crossing the river at Pleasant Flat there is an incredible view of the mountains to the (?north?) Then the Gates of Haast and Trickle One and Two; great clefts of rock with the streams spraying down within, glimpsed as I hurtle past. Numerous waterfalls seen from the road. I stop for some food from my cooler (whoops Chilly Bin) not so cool anymore.
Wanaka seems like a happening place! Lots of folks at the sidewalk cafes and bars, a huge lake framed by immense mountains dry as dust and covered in scrub, gorse and fern mostly. I find a campground, get some takeaway and begin to catch up on the writing. I need some solid time to sort photos though so leave it for later. Get into conversation with a cyclist from north England who has been resting here for the last three days. Too windy he says. The weather looks good for tomorrow. I get laundry done, hanging in the dry night air, have a beer and fall sleep. Lightly. My foot is keeping me awake and I daren't drop my vigilance since when I arrived my nose let go again.
In the morning the starter gives me grief to the extreme discomfort of the folks who just arrived and are attempting to sleep. He gets up and gives me a push.
In town I find the library. The plug is in the ceiling. Unfortunately gravity being what it is, the plug slips out and two hours later I am not charged up. However my time in the parking is, so I go exploring. Take a picture of Mt Aspiring and discover a road leading to the Motatapu River Gorge. Along a dusty washboarded road, this place is the driest one gets in NZ. Like Utah and the Okanagon but bigger mountains, Kiwi accents and dead possums along the highway.
The gorge is quite magnificent, steep carved rocks and a narrow passage way looking down from the bridge. I find the trail down and as I am contemplating diving in, 5 local youth arrive boisterous and cocky. The are jumping in from the overhanging rocks, noting there is less water than last time and "it is cold!" I jump in once making a comment about a similar spot back home where we wear wetsuits to explore it. One fellow tells how some mates swam and walked upstream to then drift down and got sucked under a large rock and drowned. Not today thanks.
Back in town I finally connect with Roo and David and bonus! Marie who they ran into the day before so all went tramping together.
We try the local micro brewery beer all three flavours and have Indian food at 9:30. Quite an accomplishment , not much is open after 8 here. Then Marie and I drive back to the gorge, to freedom camp, David and Roo staying in the Sally Ann Hostel, housed in the same building as a bar...
I walked alone later along the tideline looking for something, and found it. Lighter than the last piece I picked up, I am weighing both literally and figuratively what I am choosing to keep. And of course on the last day...
Morning, colder and lots of condensation. I am underway, on the road by 9 heading to the Glaciers! Franz Josef has the most hype, helicopters flying up and over all day long. Some offer a view of all the local glaciers. What a trip that would be. I walk slowly up as close as they will let us get, across an immense morraine field, rivers snaking through. The massive cliffs ringing the valley have waterfalls cascading down all around. It doesn't seem possible to get it all in a photo.
I scoot (along with many others) down to the river and snag a piece of thousand year old ice to suck on as I wander back to the parking lot. I manage to say hello to most of the folks passing me by. Some even respond! Then onto Fox. The ground must be even less stable here, there are ropes and signs everywhere. Saying hello pays off, some of the same folks are here too and I manage to get a few conversations happening.
Received a text from Roo. She and David are tramping up in the hills near Wanaka, do I "want to connect tomorrow?" (of course she didn't write it like that). I spend some time and finally figure out how to text. Confirming.
So a major drive ahead of me and no camera batteries again. Oh well!
Bruce Bay had a continous line of stacked rocks along its mile or so road frontage with many stick structures sculpted on the beach itself. And people were stopping to photograph and add to the display.
Haast blows by but on the bridge, crossing the river at Pleasant Flat there is an incredible view of the mountains to the (?north?) Then the Gates of Haast and Trickle One and Two; great clefts of rock with the streams spraying down within, glimpsed as I hurtle past. Numerous waterfalls seen from the road. I stop for some food from my cooler (whoops Chilly Bin) not so cool anymore.
Wanaka seems like a happening place! Lots of folks at the sidewalk cafes and bars, a huge lake framed by immense mountains dry as dust and covered in scrub, gorse and fern mostly. I find a campground, get some takeaway and begin to catch up on the writing. I need some solid time to sort photos though so leave it for later. Get into conversation with a cyclist from north England who has been resting here for the last three days. Too windy he says. The weather looks good for tomorrow. I get laundry done, hanging in the dry night air, have a beer and fall sleep. Lightly. My foot is keeping me awake and I daren't drop my vigilance since when I arrived my nose let go again.
In the morning the starter gives me grief to the extreme discomfort of the folks who just arrived and are attempting to sleep. He gets up and gives me a push.
In town I find the library. The plug is in the ceiling. Unfortunately gravity being what it is, the plug slips out and two hours later I am not charged up. However my time in the parking is, so I go exploring. Take a picture of Mt Aspiring and discover a road leading to the Motatapu River Gorge. Along a dusty washboarded road, this place is the driest one gets in NZ. Like Utah and the Okanagon but bigger mountains, Kiwi accents and dead possums along the highway.
The gorge is quite magnificent, steep carved rocks and a narrow passage way looking down from the bridge. I find the trail down and as I am contemplating diving in, 5 local youth arrive boisterous and cocky. The are jumping in from the overhanging rocks, noting there is less water than last time and "it is cold!" I jump in once making a comment about a similar spot back home where we wear wetsuits to explore it. One fellow tells how some mates swam and walked upstream to then drift down and got sucked under a large rock and drowned. Not today thanks.
Back in town I finally connect with Roo and David and bonus! Marie who they ran into the day before so all went tramping together.
We try the local micro brewery beer all three flavours and have Indian food at 9:30. Quite an accomplishment , not much is open after 8 here. Then Marie and I drive back to the gorge, to freedom camp, David and Roo staying in the Sally Ann Hostel, housed in the same building as a bar...
Friday, 5 March 2010
Hokitika and the Cesspool Gorge
I make my way to Hokitika, turn left toward the gorge and follow the signs. Quite a few doglegs, the roads are straight and appear to be following the property lines of some big farms all on the flat. Eventually I cross the river, milky from the glacier and find the parking. The toilets are not yet operational. No one is there.... however soon quite a number of vehicles arrive. The walkway is brand new taking us to the suspension bridge and then a rough track to waters edge. The water is boiling through here, one fellow seems to think he might go swimming! I don't stick around to see it, instead follow a stream a ways and avail myself of some healing herbs; yarrow, plantain and dock. Some realizations come home, my sinus infection, swimming in the sea, different climate, changes to my perspective. It all seems to come together, although I wonder what Louise Hay has to say....
Back into Hokitika and to river's mouth, looking for stones. The sea air brings on a powerful release, I work with it, making sure not to get blood all over my nice clean jacket. I breath deeply till one nostril is free then finally the other. Found some nice stones too, in spite of promising myself NOT to collect any. Like that's going to happen. Looking at the map I see Cesspool Gorge. That has a certain attractive ring to it. Getting there involves driving around Lake Kaniere, somehow I take the other road and drive around the opposite way I imagined. I really need a pilot to read the map. I stop a fellow walking and he tells me about some cowboy shootout rifle range where the gate might be locked. I decide to chance it and after driving a long time end up at the rifle range.In the dark. It looks deserted but out the fellow comes and directs me to the trail head. Unfortunately I'm not completely sure.
Morning comes, only one slight episode, raining and I figure this must be the gate. Slog along through the wet grass, then along the river bed. I see what appears to be jade, greenstone, boulders of it all sorts of greens and black. I find a few pieces I think might be the stuff then head into the bush up a a slight cliff looking for the trail. Right away I spot some amazing examples of Chicken of the Woods. Huge they are. I find some trail markers, bluepots nailed to trees. The trail is illusive, I have to zigzag through thick bush numerous times to find it. I continue on over a slip, broken trees, exposed rock on a cliff face, swamp, no sign of the trail etc till I come exhausted to a slippery climb seemingly straight up. I realize I am really not up to this, soaking wet, heart racing, legs like jelly. I head back and get lost, again and again zigzaging to find the trail markers. I attempt to go to the river and down but no... I am on an overhang 20 or 30 feet up, rocks below. I lay on my back a few times to get my breath back and my heart rate to slow, I am tripping, slipping and sliding bushes whacking me in the face. I find the trail and lose it, go too far and backtrack, climb up and down the edge of the cliff. When I finally arrive back at the van completely soaked and exhausted I look at the map..... The trail is on the other side of the river. But I didn't have a nose bleed!
Back into Hokitika and to river's mouth, looking for stones. The sea air brings on a powerful release, I work with it, making sure not to get blood all over my nice clean jacket. I breath deeply till one nostril is free then finally the other. Found some nice stones too, in spite of promising myself NOT to collect any. Like that's going to happen. Looking at the map I see Cesspool Gorge. That has a certain attractive ring to it. Getting there involves driving around Lake Kaniere, somehow I take the other road and drive around the opposite way I imagined. I really need a pilot to read the map. I stop a fellow walking and he tells me about some cowboy shootout rifle range where the gate might be locked. I decide to chance it and after driving a long time end up at the rifle range.In the dark. It looks deserted but out the fellow comes and directs me to the trail head. Unfortunately I'm not completely sure.
Morning comes, only one slight episode, raining and I figure this must be the gate. Slog along through the wet grass, then along the river bed. I see what appears to be jade, greenstone, boulders of it all sorts of greens and black. I find a few pieces I think might be the stuff then head into the bush up a a slight cliff looking for the trail. Right away I spot some amazing examples of Chicken of the Woods. Huge they are. I find some trail markers, bluepots nailed to trees. The trail is illusive, I have to zigzag through thick bush numerous times to find it. I continue on over a slip, broken trees, exposed rock on a cliff face, swamp, no sign of the trail etc till I come exhausted to a slippery climb seemingly straight up. I realize I am really not up to this, soaking wet, heart racing, legs like jelly. I head back and get lost, again and again zigzaging to find the trail markers. I attempt to go to the river and down but no... I am on an overhang 20 or 30 feet up, rocks below. I lay on my back a few times to get my breath back and my heart rate to slow, I am tripping, slipping and sliding bushes whacking me in the face. I find the trail and lose it, go too far and backtrack, climb up and down the edge of the cliff. When I finally arrive back at the van completely soaked and exhausted I look at the map..... The trail is on the other side of the river. But I didn't have a nose bleed!
Eves Valley to Greymouth
Eves Valley road is not so easy to find, lucky for me Hiroko reads the map and guides me there. At or near the roads end is a reserve, like a park where the land is protected. We see some cattle farms, orchards, horses and llamas, seems like a slow part of the world here. The other sight at the end of the road is a massive pile of wood from the clearcut logging they did on the hillside, feels just like home, complete with two fellows on their trailbikes.
We drive on stop for lunch at a river and look for greenstone.The road gets more interesting following big rivers past gorges and canyons. the one lane bridge/road is amazing, at one point, they chiseled (blasted?) the edge of the cliff so we can drive above the Buller River complete with overhang. Man did I wish for my camera to be operational. Some stars on the map indicate points of interest, maybe next time... we are in a hurry wanting to get to Hiroko's friends before dark. They run the Beaconstone Backpackers, south of Westport, surrounded by native bush the ocean far off to the west, a very pleasant place to land. My nose starts flowing when we step up to the door.
It continues to challenge me all night long. I won't go into the messy details.
In the morning clean up, express my gratitudes and head out. Again! Out of frustration and lack of understanding I let it bleed into the gravel at the side of the road, giving me some time to think. Manage to stop it and drive on past some majestic cliffs and awesome waves rolling in. Timed it well, full moon the night before and high tide as I drive along. The waves are perfect, single combers rolling onto sandy beaches and smashing skyward at the headlands. Pancake rocks would have been a great place to stop...I am more focused on getting to a drug store. I pick up a hitch hiker Dariousz from Poland . He has 9 days in NZ and this is day 3. Excited to hear I am heading so far south he is in for a surprise. The pharmacy suggests seeing a Dr. I make an appointment and then go to the library. Bleeding again! Make a mess in the bathroom so wisely head to Dr early. I must look like hell, they send me in and Anu the Dr. comes to see, a transplant from Oregon she is friendly, engaging and helpful, tells me how to pinch and how long. Her associate Michael stuffs something up my nose and insists I see the Hokitika Gorge. Some relief until after shopping both nostrils in the parking lot. I pinch and pinch and eventually still holding tight to my nose, Dariusz drives me to the hospital. His first driving on the right experience.
We wait. Pete the Dr comes and eventually sprays painkiller in my nostril, what a taste yuck! Then pushes and probes cannot see anything obvious. Suggests I might need to go to Christchurch to see the specialists and their instruments... I don't think so! They finally release me, drive into town and convince the fellow at the Noahs Ark backpackers to let us stay. Dariusz makes us an awesome dinner and I retire early. Spend the night swallowing, holding my nose and staying clean.
Morning comes, usual shower, shave and shi... nope didn't shave.We hang out at the library, unfortunately the bus is full so I offer to take Dariousz out of town to hitch. We share a meal together, the famous fish and chip takeaway and wish each other well. I revisit the hospital. Pete agrees it will likely settle down and so I head out as well.
We drive on stop for lunch at a river and look for greenstone.The road gets more interesting following big rivers past gorges and canyons. the one lane bridge/road is amazing, at one point, they chiseled (blasted?) the edge of the cliff so we can drive above the Buller River complete with overhang. Man did I wish for my camera to be operational. Some stars on the map indicate points of interest, maybe next time... we are in a hurry wanting to get to Hiroko's friends before dark. They run the Beaconstone Backpackers, south of Westport, surrounded by native bush the ocean far off to the west, a very pleasant place to land. My nose starts flowing when we step up to the door.
It continues to challenge me all night long. I won't go into the messy details.
In the morning clean up, express my gratitudes and head out. Again! Out of frustration and lack of understanding I let it bleed into the gravel at the side of the road, giving me some time to think. Manage to stop it and drive on past some majestic cliffs and awesome waves rolling in. Timed it well, full moon the night before and high tide as I drive along. The waves are perfect, single combers rolling onto sandy beaches and smashing skyward at the headlands. Pancake rocks would have been a great place to stop...I am more focused on getting to a drug store. I pick up a hitch hiker Dariousz from Poland . He has 9 days in NZ and this is day 3. Excited to hear I am heading so far south he is in for a surprise. The pharmacy suggests seeing a Dr. I make an appointment and then go to the library. Bleeding again! Make a mess in the bathroom so wisely head to Dr early. I must look like hell, they send me in and Anu the Dr. comes to see, a transplant from Oregon she is friendly, engaging and helpful, tells me how to pinch and how long. Her associate Michael stuffs something up my nose and insists I see the Hokitika Gorge. Some relief until after shopping both nostrils in the parking lot. I pinch and pinch and eventually still holding tight to my nose, Dariusz drives me to the hospital. His first driving on the right experience.
We wait. Pete the Dr comes and eventually sprays painkiller in my nostril, what a taste yuck! Then pushes and probes cannot see anything obvious. Suggests I might need to go to Christchurch to see the specialists and their instruments... I don't think so! They finally release me, drive into town and convince the fellow at the Noahs Ark backpackers to let us stay. Dariusz makes us an awesome dinner and I retire early. Spend the night swallowing, holding my nose and staying clean.
Morning comes, usual shower, shave and shi... nope didn't shave.We hang out at the library, unfortunately the bus is full so I offer to take Dariousz out of town to hitch. We share a meal together, the famous fish and chip takeaway and wish each other well. I revisit the hospital. Pete agrees it will likely settle down and so I head out as well.
Golden Bay to Motueka
I am so glad I've driven on gravel before. Many of the most appealing destinations are beyond the pavement. Anatori for example. I was so blissed out by the terrain I forgot to note the distance, and time being what it is, stopping frequently to drool or encourage Hiroko to snap a photo, meant as Margaret back at Tui warned me, cannot be determined. Lucky for me there were postcards at the Cape Farewell cafe. I bought one and plan to show you it personally when I return. Just ask the next time you see me!
We proceeded east back along the bay to Takaka where after loading up with groceries reconnected with Vincent, who along with Christina ,Caitlin and Mat were hanging out at Gee's yurt. We ate well, had some wine and told stories on each other.Then watched a video of the Fiordlands., As beautiful as it is I don't think I will be going there.
Then the three vehicles headed back close to town where we camped (almost) under a bridge.Getting cold and damp now as summer slides into fall. A heavy dew meant the tents were soaked in the morning. I managed to squeeze in a phone call to Elke then we all had breakfast together potluck, Hiroko takes good care of us all. Back to the library where I attempted to catch up on email. OMG it is like a constant stream of verbage really, and I need better filters. delete delete. Blog my thoughts. Who knew? I love this medium, The freedom to speak my somewhat articulate mind in such a random yet consistent manner is, as someone once said "brilliant!"
How hard is it to leave a place that seems like a kind of paradise? I had serious doubts I was ever going over that hill back to Moteuka. Roo kept bumping into more people she knew until finding us three enjoying Tiramasu and gluten free Hazelnut Torte a the Suiss bakery. Drove past Hang Dog the climbers spot across from an untried swimming hole..So many places to check out, Vincent, David and Hiroko had explored a local cave I missed somehow and...and...
Up we go, stop at the lookout, Golden Bay visible in the distance. Hiroko stands on the guardrail and takes the pictures for me.The batteries then die.
Over the top and down into Motueka, driving past our rendezvous spot since I missed noting it, we drove around till we spotted Ian, did some shopping and followed him home. His greenhouse is full of thriving plants, a cornucopia of potential permaculture plantings. We vist with Ian, Diana and of course the dogs! Have a wonderful dinner do email, load photos courtesy of David and by choosing satellite imaging on google brought the place back so well it almost felt like being there again.
In the morning we hear about Chile and the impending tsunami, hang laundry and plan our day. Off to the market in Motueka, my friend the hawk graces us with a landing in front of the van, then lift off close enough to make eye contact. We stop at Riverside Community for chai and a walkabout, David takes pictures and I whine to myself about dead batteries.
At the market I buy myself some rainbow tights, peaches, a Bratworst on a bun and organic blueberries ( the fellow is from Toronto originally). We all look at greenstone and the woman at one stand has some from Takaka, it is very dark. Her husband (originally from Colorado) carves stone they find all over. Gave up their jobs sold their stuff invested in tools and bought a place. Travel around collecting stone and then selling the carvings. More of her carvings keep coming out from behind the counter as she gets to know us. We all buy a piece, for each other..She also speaks about the giving and receiving, indicating the Maori themselves told her "the stone needs blessing". They suggested the source of the Riwaka, just up the road at the foot of Takaka hill. What a magical spot! The water comes rushing out of the hillside from a cave down through moss covered boulders into a clear green pool of incredibly inviting water. Once we had done our ritual in the stream among the boulders off came the clothes and into the pool. Yikes it was cold! It was here that I had my first nosebleed.
We walked back down the hill and stood together one last time, I truly love these folks and know we will meet again, soon. Wave to David and Roo. Hiroko and I drive south.
a note
I will be writing something about my time in the course, some digesting/composting to bring forth a truly fertile product. Something that seeds will grow in.
We proceeded east back along the bay to Takaka where after loading up with groceries reconnected with Vincent, who along with Christina ,Caitlin and Mat were hanging out at Gee's yurt. We ate well, had some wine and told stories on each other.Then watched a video of the Fiordlands., As beautiful as it is I don't think I will be going there.
Then the three vehicles headed back close to town where we camped (almost) under a bridge.Getting cold and damp now as summer slides into fall. A heavy dew meant the tents were soaked in the morning. I managed to squeeze in a phone call to Elke then we all had breakfast together potluck, Hiroko takes good care of us all. Back to the library where I attempted to catch up on email. OMG it is like a constant stream of verbage really, and I need better filters. delete delete. Blog my thoughts. Who knew? I love this medium, The freedom to speak my somewhat articulate mind in such a random yet consistent manner is, as someone once said "brilliant!"
How hard is it to leave a place that seems like a kind of paradise? I had serious doubts I was ever going over that hill back to Moteuka. Roo kept bumping into more people she knew until finding us three enjoying Tiramasu and gluten free Hazelnut Torte a the Suiss bakery. Drove past Hang Dog the climbers spot across from an untried swimming hole..So many places to check out, Vincent, David and Hiroko had explored a local cave I missed somehow and...and...
Up we go, stop at the lookout, Golden Bay visible in the distance. Hiroko stands on the guardrail and takes the pictures for me.The batteries then die.
Over the top and down into Motueka, driving past our rendezvous spot since I missed noting it, we drove around till we spotted Ian, did some shopping and followed him home. His greenhouse is full of thriving plants, a cornucopia of potential permaculture plantings. We vist with Ian, Diana and of course the dogs! Have a wonderful dinner do email, load photos courtesy of David and by choosing satellite imaging on google brought the place back so well it almost felt like being there again.
In the morning we hear about Chile and the impending tsunami, hang laundry and plan our day. Off to the market in Motueka, my friend the hawk graces us with a landing in front of the van, then lift off close enough to make eye contact. We stop at Riverside Community for chai and a walkabout, David takes pictures and I whine to myself about dead batteries.
At the market I buy myself some rainbow tights, peaches, a Bratworst on a bun and organic blueberries ( the fellow is from Toronto originally). We all look at greenstone and the woman at one stand has some from Takaka, it is very dark. Her husband (originally from Colorado) carves stone they find all over. Gave up their jobs sold their stuff invested in tools and bought a place. Travel around collecting stone and then selling the carvings. More of her carvings keep coming out from behind the counter as she gets to know us. We all buy a piece, for each other..She also speaks about the giving and receiving, indicating the Maori themselves told her "the stone needs blessing". They suggested the source of the Riwaka, just up the road at the foot of Takaka hill. What a magical spot! The water comes rushing out of the hillside from a cave down through moss covered boulders into a clear green pool of incredibly inviting water. Once we had done our ritual in the stream among the boulders off came the clothes and into the pool. Yikes it was cold! It was here that I had my first nosebleed.
We walked back down the hill and stood together one last time, I truly love these folks and know we will meet again, soon. Wave to David and Roo. Hiroko and I drive south.
a note
I will be writing something about my time in the course, some digesting/composting to bring forth a truly fertile product. Something that seeds will grow in.
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