Fiordland

Murphy Family

Returning to Fiordland is like returning home. We arrive at Glacial Rocks B & B in the late afternoon sunshine. We’ve stayed here before so find it quite easily. The two cozy self-catering farm cottages have a beautiful view over a sunken paddock carved out by the glaciers in ancient times. Finn and Sarah Murphy and their three children ages twelve, ten and eight share this space with a cow, chooks (chickens to us), sheep, pet lambs, four horses and herds of red deer scattered in different paddocks.

Olivia, the oldest daughter, is very artistic and her work adorns the cottage. There is an essay she’s written and a beautiful welcome sign inside. Included in our tariff is fresh milk with the cream on top straight from the cow, fresh eggs from the chooks, home preserved peaches and the other usual breakfast amenities. Since our last visit Finn and Sarah have bought a pizza restaurant in town where they all work in the evenings. We agree to eat there one of our four nights, and Sarah promises icy cold lemoncello, an Italian liqueur, on the house.

In March 2010 we had too little free time as we rushed from one tourist activity to the other, boat trips to Milford and Doubtful Sounds, both in the pouring rain, the Gloworm Caves and an unforgettable helicopter ride over Doubtful Sound in the brilliant sunshine, landing at two isolated spots. Rob Hall-Jones, our pilot, made us feel as though we were living Ata Whenua, the beautiful film of Fiordland filmed from helicopters. We took a one hour hike on the Kepler Track on our last day, and we vowed to return to explore the hiking trails. We don’t have a set plan but Peter Tait and Andy Apse both recommended hikes to Key Summit on the Routeburn Track and  the trail to Lake Marian near the Hollyford Track. Both treks require that we drive the Milford Road about three-quarters of the way to Milford Sound. Andy warned us not to attempt these unless the weather is clear. Unfortunately the forecast for the area calls for rain, but I remember that Te Anau enjoys much better weather than Milford so if necessary we’ll stick to the Kepler Track that is nearby.

Shallow Bay

Blanket of Moss

Our first day the weather in Te Anau is fair, we can see lots of cloud in the sound so we take the twelve km. trek to Shallow Bay on Lake Manapouri. We follow a fairly wide level track through ferns, mosses and beech trees and cross wetlands via a boardwalk taking a detour to the lookout. We look through our binos (as they call them here) at some birds in the distance. Lo and behold, we’ve come all this way and what do we see? The good old ubiquitous Canada Geese. How on earth did they find their way down here?

We enjoy our packed lunch on an old log at the shore of this crystal clear lake, check out the backpackers hut – glad we’re day hikers – and head home for dinner and a soft bed.

Abandoned Packs

Alpine Walk

The next day the weather has improved, and we decide to head for Key Summit. If we find it deteriorating, we can stop somewhere closer as there are lots of hikes in the area. It takes about one and one half hours to drive to the Divide where we park our zippy fire engine red rental car and head upward. The trail is a lot easier than we anticipate and very beautiful. This is green stone area, and we hike on a slightly wet green stone trail with small waterfalls punctuating the first few kilometres. Green is my favourite colour, and NZ is the place for me with green stone, abundant green vegetation and emerald green water. The trail divides after one hour, marked by large seriously heavy looking packs temporarily deserted by their owners for the half hour climb following switchbacks to the summit. We meet a group of scouts and their leaders after a few metres, headed back to take up their packs and tramp on the Routeburn. Still the track is easier than we anticipate, and we take the twenty minute self guided nature walk through the alpine meadow, marveling at the fauna that can survive in this often  hostile environment.  We enjoy our ham and cheese sandwiches looking out over Lake Marian in the hanging valley below, a future destination if the weather holds. American Heritage Dictionary defines a hanging valley as “a tributary valley that joins a main valley where the latter has been deepened, usually by glacial erosion, resulting in a steep drop from the floor of the tributary valley to the floor of the main valley.” The clouds are moving in alarmingly fast and the accompanying drop in temperature necessitates bundling up in hats, and gloves. Ironically going down seems to take longer than anticipated though it’s not too taxing. I conk out in the car on the way home and am grateful Duncan doesn’t mind driving all the way back to Te Anau.

Lunch on Key Summit

Claudia Feeding the Lambs

After nice hot showers and feeding the lambs, our  twice a day little contribution on the farm twice, we go into town to enjoy cold beer, pizza, tiramisu, cappuccinos and the promised lemoncellos. Fantastic! We’d signed up to go stargazing with a local but it’s too cloudy so we retire to our little farm cottage for much needed rest.

Milford on a Sunny Day

Searching for those orange markers

The following day the weather is brilliant; we can see all the way down toward Milford Sound so we decide to drive there for a look. Because the rain was tipping down on our last trip, we anticipate a very different view and we’re not disappointed. Though it’s 120 km down, it takes two hours because of the winding roads and slow tour buses and campers. At this time of year, New Zealanders have not begun their summer holidays yet, the traffic is light, and I enjoy driving part way.  There are so many curves in the road to attend to the time goes very quickly. Duncan takes the wheel for the drive through the Homer Tunnel, down the steepest stretches of road, and we arrive at our destination around noon. We enjoy a snack and a flat white before walking to the lookout and the foreshore. Then it’s back into the car to the start of the Lake Marian trek. Marian Falls, actually a series of thundering falls, is our first reward. This part of the walk takes only ten minutes and is where most tourists stop and turn back.  There is a reason for that! We head up the trail and don’t see a single soul until much later. This is a difficult steadily upward climb over rocks and tree roots following the orange markers across four avalanche sites. At the first there is an ominous sign warning trampers not to stop for the next 200 metres. We pick our way slowly through the massive downed trees and gigantic boulders stopping periodically to find those welcome orange markers. I shudder to think what sound and fury there was when the tons of debris came thundering down the mountainside. We had hoped to eat lunch at the lake but because of flagging energy, we sit on a rock and devour one of our sandwiches and some nuts and dried fruit before proceeding.  We keep going and after much grunting and groaning gain our reward. We are in a huge alpine amphitheatre surrounded by snowy peaks with a small clear emerald lake in the middle.  The sun is blazing away and we find a large flat rock that serves nicely as our picnic table where we finish our sandwiches and munch on apples and nuts. We wish we had brought more water, but hey, up here the water is as pure as it will ever be anywhere so I clamber over the rocks to reach the lake, where I gratefully remove my boots and socks and soak my tired feet in the icy alpine lake. I also cup my hands to take a most welcome drink. Water never tasted so good. I comment that if we were in Canada I’d be looking around nervously for a big grizzly bear coming to drink just over on that small beach. I’m considering going there for a very brief skinny dip when another couple appears from the other side of the lake. Where did they come from? I guess I’ll have to be content with dunking my feet. We spend half an hour before very reluctantly heading back down the track. 

Gorgeous Lake Marian

We meet three or four other groups heading in to the lake. It stays light until about 9 p.m. so NZ trampers make the most of the daylight hours. We’d thought going down this steep trail would be more difficult than it is, and we arrive at the car at 5:30 p.m.

We opt for pizza again, and Sarah and Olivia tell us of their experiences on this trail. Sarah relates that she gave up half way because she was six months pregnant when she attempted it! These Kiwis! This was certainly one of our most challenging hikes, and I can’t even imagine how a heavily pregnant woman could contemplate clambering over tree roots and up boulders. We now understand the definition of that “hanging valley”! Olivia remembers trekking in winter when the lake was frozen over. “Bad luck if you fall in,” was her comment! We’re not sure if she did or not.

After the Pizzeria da’Toni we check with our local “Live Sky” guide who has agreed to do the tour because the sky is perfectly clear this evening. We must kill an hour so walk around the town observing some local teen boys making noise while looking for action.  Teen boys speak the same language all over the world, even in NZ, the only difference here is that many of them actually smile and greet you here. There isn’t much action for them in Te Anau though, they comment about looking for The Hobbit crew that is in town filming at the moment.  They are too young for the lakeside Moose Bar and Restaurant where the group Live Wire is belting out tunes from the sixties like “Honkytonk Woman” and “Rolling on the River”. Why do these young people seem to always play songs of our generation, I can’t help but wonder. We’re grateful we’re not staying in one of the lakeside motels as the music throbs well into the wee hours.

Our guide, Richard, is a young fellow in his twenties or early thirties, who arrives as scheduled to pick us up in his van with a little trailer attached at the back to carry his portable telescope. There is a couple from Liverpool, UK  already in the van, we pick up three young NZ fellows and stop at the youth hostel for three young Canadian women from Huntsville, Ontario, (if you can believe it) who follow us in their car.  So Richard comments that the group is heavy on Canadians this evening, “But that’s OK!” he says. When we arrive at the park we greet each other in the dark unable to see more than rather ghostly outlines of each other. We’d never be able to identify the Canadian women if we met them again on home ground. Perhaps we’d recognize their voices.

Like all these New Zealand guides, Richard is bursting with enthusiasm and information about his subject. I know virtually nothing about the night sky. My knowledge is limited to the Big and Little Dippers at home, and they don’t appear in the southern hemisphere. I can still find Orion’s belt and with a little help the Southern Cross from our Kiwi Spotting night, though. We each get a pair of good quality “binos” (binoculars) and a souvenir map on the stars in a handy dandy plastic case. We dutifully take turns looking through the larger telescope to see Jupiter, a nebula, defined as clouds of gas and dust in which new stars are forming, Pleiades (the Seven Sisters) – if you know the emblem of a Subaru, that’s what it looks like, and we used to own one of those – and a globular cluster defined as “a tightly packed self-gravitating and spherical grouping of hundreds of thousands to millions of generally very old stars”, to name a few of the astronomical wonders. We heard some of the Maori legends related to the heavens and that the constellations are NOT upside down in the southern hemisphere as inhabitants  of the northern hemisphere frequently claim.  By midnight we’re all beginning to feel the cold and damp and are grateful to clamber back into the van for the short drive back to Te Anau. Richard was highly entertaining with his liberal use of colloquial expressions like “done and dusted”, “binos”, “sweet as” and “good on you”. Ironically when we arrive back home after midnight the night sky is even more brilliant at our cottage. Next morning we suggest to Sarah that she hire Richard to come to their farm to put on the show for family and friends because the sky is even more impressive out away from Te Anau. She and Finn recommended the tour and were curious to hear of our experience.

Unfortunately our time at this rural southern paradise is over all too quickly, and I suggest to Sarah that she and Finn hire us as “Woofers” during the next tourist season to help around the farm and in the restaurant just like the young people do. She has two girls currently, one from Rome and another from the States. Duncan can help Finn sort out his books for the local accountants, and I can cook, clean and feed the lambs.  Neither one of us had a Gap Year when we were younger, “How hard can it be?”
Click below to see map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Te+Anau,+New+Zealand&hl=en&ll=-45.460131,167.695313&spn=25.474172,56.513672&sll=49.891235,-97.15369&sspn=23.430526,56.513672&vpsrc=6&hnear=Te+Anau,+Southland,+New+Zealand&t=h&z=4

Rakiura (Stewart Island)

Our trusty guide, Peter Tait

 Back in Canada we saw some films on Stewart Island or as the Maoris call it, Rakiura, Land of the Glowing Skies. Their legend says that a Maori chief in his search for a wife was doubly embarrassed because his only choices were already spoken for so he left the region. The glowing sunsets of Rakiura are caused by his glowing cheeks. This is a lovely story, and though it rains a lot on Stewart Island, we had two lovely days with glowing sunsets at the end. Stewart Island is famed as a wildlife sanctuary for rare and endangered New Zealand birds. A short boat trip to Ulva Island nearby allows one to see some of these birds up close. As the island is nearly predator free,  some birds are willing to come closer. In fact the little black robins are downright friendly just like the locals.

We flew from Invercargill on Stewart Island Air to save Duncan the boat trip and to save a bit of time as it takes only fifteen minutes. We are instantly whisked off, along with a British couple from Hampshire who were the same flight, to the house we coincidentally happened to be sharing for the new two days. We drink a quick cup of tea with homemade ginger biscuits  and then we get fifteen minutes to buy some essentials at the one small grocery before being hustled off to Peter’s ocean worthy yacht, the Talisker, for our prearranged nature walk to Ulva Island.
Our hosts, Peter and Iris Tait, met on Stewart Island and decided to stay so they are considered “first generation” Stewart Islanders.  She was the visiting nurse on the island, and met him when he came to be the one forest ranger. They love the island and “in retirement” have tried a number of ventures here to make a living. At one time they had a charter business taking tourists on fishing trips of several days. Currently they run a bed and breakfast and also rent out “our” self contained cottage an investment for their daughter who is a pediatrician off island. Peter organizes and leads different tours listed on his Sails Ashore website. The British couple are retired biologists interested in pest control, hence their interest in Stewart Island and Ulva Island, which is a pest-free sanctuary. The poor defenceless New Zealand birds have served as the prey of a number of introduced species e.g. rats, mice, possums, stoats and ferrets. Why did the British settlers want to bring such creatures when they emigrated in the nineteenth century? Apparently the Maori introduced rats, and they also came on ships.  Dogs and cats are also a problem for NZ birdlife.

Peter and Iris are typical friendly enthusiastic New Zealanders. Peter affirms my theory that this amicability is due to New Zealand’s small population of roughly four million inhabitants spread over three islands. I tell him I think New Zealanders must get a terrible shock when they travel to some of the sometimes less hospitable destinations in the world. They must have to harden up a bit when they get to the London or New York City!

His absolute joy at taking us around Ulva Island for three hours is palpable. He claims he loves to spend hours here just observing birds and searching for rare plants like miniature orchids. In fact he apologizes because we linger too long. We’ve signed up for a Kiwi Spotting Tour that evening and must eat dinner beforehand so we have to rush back from Ulva Island for our dinner reservations at the local hotel.  We enjoy warming bowls of seafood chowder and Duncan opts for local battered Blue Cod with chips and I enjoy the fish pie made with smoked seafood.

The tour was amazing by the way.  Being familiar with the birdcalls, Peter listened intently and bounded into the woods to locate the sources. He got us up close to the South Island Saddleback and lured little black robins right up to us by scratching on the soil. They will fly down to look for insects and stand obligingly as the tourists photograph them from all angles. The tiny creatures have little fear of humans and are impossibly cute as they stamp their feet to bring the insects to the surface of the soil. We also saw red crowned parakeets (parrots to us), and Wekas and Oyster Catchers that are unique to Stewart Island. He lectured us on the trees and plants also and I wish I’d been able to record his voice, but he generously shared DVDs with photos, and we purchased a DVD entitled Primeval Paradise, a professional production that essentially recaps his tour.

Stewart Island Brown Kiwi

After dinner we head off with about twenty others including the British biologists and many birdwatchers from all over the world to spot Kiwis on another part of Stewart Island. We are looking for the Brown Kiwi, another species unique here on Stewart Island. Unlike mainland Kiwis, these creatures are diurnal, meaning one might see them during the day too. In fact Russell Beck from Invercargill reported that they just walked across his feet when he was looking for rocks on the island. As there are very few predators, they are unafraid to search for food during daylight hours, though one sees them less frequently.
Philip Smith, a fourth generation Stewart Islander, has the concession to lead Kiwi spotting tours to Ocean Beach about forty minutes away by boat. His literature bills his tour as a David Attenbough type experience, and, in fact, he and Peter Tait were actually hired by the famed naturalist when he visited Stewart Island. Peter and Iris warned us to be at the boat dock on time, because otherwise we’d be waving goodbye to the boat. Peter is a reserved no-nonsense fellow who doesn’t wait for anyone! The boat leaves as scheduled at 8:45 p.m. with all passengers accounted for (they must all have been warned too) and returns us to Half Moon Bay at midnight! Duncan is alarmed at this because he is convinced he must get his eight hours of sleep EVERY night or he will be wasted the next day. Since I don’t sleep that well anyway, I convince him to make an exception. What could be more fun than seeing Kiwis searching for food along a starlit beach? The tour operator says we are 99% certain of seeing the birds but he won’t refund the hefty fee of $140 per person if we don’t so we keep our fingers crossed. Peter pilots the boat and Greg, another local, leads us on a walk up and down and across the neck, a narrow strip of land, to the remote Ocean Beach. Greg warns us not to laugh, talk or make loud noises as the birds are easily spooked and absolutely no flash photography. We are rewarded within five minutes when he shines his light on a juvenile female (according to him) who is foraging for insects next to the boardwalk.  The entire group files past silently before she decides she’s had enough of us and flees into the cover of darkness. This is a good sign! When we arrive at the beach we parade in two directions and wonder how on earth he can see these creatures. We think every shadow looks like a potential Kiwi. He finds us two other larger Kiwis who bound away quite quickly. Kiwis are territorial so he thinks these two are nervous interlopers who are embarrassed at being caught out. This beach “belongs” to a mating pair and their family. Kiwis mate for life by the way.

The night sky is beautiful and we can hear but find it difficult to see the waves crashing on the beach. Someone points out the Southern Cross, Orion and a satellite moving across the heavens. No more Kiwis make an appearance so we trudge back to the jetty in silence still searching for Kiwis on the way. We pass through an abandoned camp for deer hunters who worked here to cull the herds in the sixties. Deer haven’t been removed completely as Stewart Island is a destination for deer hunters who provide a much needed source of revenue for locals during the deer hunting season. As we saw three Kiwis that night, Duncan being the accountant figures that each Kiwi cost us $100 NZ dollars! Some things are worth paying for!

Deep Bay Stewart Island

Fern Gully

Our last day on the Island the wind is blowing a gale, but we hike four hours with a lunch break in the middle. We go around Golden Bay and up Fern Gully, the site of an old logging operation. Backpackers come from all over the world to hike to the more remote parts of Stewart Island. Many of the trails are reputed to be quite muddy at this time of year. One must wear gaiters over the hiking boots and rain gear is essential. Russell Beck told us he wears gum boots and short pants with long polypropylene underwear that dries quickly because the island can be so wet. We’ve had two sunny days - again just blessed by good weather.
However the following day begins with rain, and our return flight is not until 1:30 p.m. so we content ourselves  relaxing in our well equipped cozy cottage, reading nature books from the extensive library and watching local nature DVDs. Most inhabitants live at Half-Moon Bay in the small village of Oban. There are several enticing shops so I take advantage of a bit of free time to browse around and make small purchases. One of the frustrations of a trip like this is the weight restriction imposed by airlines and the space restriction of relatively small suitcases. Anything I buy, I must transport myself, and Duncan is quite pleased about that by the way.
Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Stewart+Island,+Southland,+New+Zealand&hl=en&ll=-46.980252,167.783203&spn=24.800632,56.513672&sll=-45.460131,167.695313&sspn=25.474172,56.513672&vpsrc=6&hnear=Stewart+Island,+Southland,+New+Zealand&t=h&z=4

Invercargill – Home of the "World’s Fastest Indian"

Welcome Mat in Hayes Hardware Store

We are making a pilgrimage to Hayes Hardware Store in Invercargill, to see and photograph the original motorbike ridden by Burt Munro in 1962, when he set the world land speed record for its 

Claudia in front of new Burt Munro Memorial
Invercargill

class. We watched the film on the subject, The World’s Fastest Indian starring Anthony Hopkins, the night before at Charteris Bay. We’d seen it on our last visit, and I shared my enthusiasm for it with my former student, Ben, who loved it so much he watched it three times before returning it to the public library. The second time I watched it, I enjoyed trying to figure out what he liked about it. It is certainly very funny, and there are lots of motorcycles and exciting time trials. If you haven’t seen the film, you’re in for a treat – if you can find it.

World's Fastest Indian

All I can say is that Ben would just LOVE Haye’s Hardware Store. There must be at least thirty motorcycles in the store, and the one we’ve come to see is in a glass case. There are signs all over the store pointing the way for others like us who are making the pilgrimage. I guess all the tourists were pestering the staff so it’s a good idea.  It just so happens that motorcyclists from all over the world are converging on Invercargill this very week for the seventh annual Burt Munro Challenge. I guess this is like the Indy 500 of motorcycle racing in NZ.  Some races will be held on Otaki Beach, just outside town, the long beach featured in the film where Burt raced up and down in preparation for going to the Utah salt flats where he set the records. There are bikers who are here to see the legendary bike when we enter the store.

Casing for World's Fastest Indian

We just LOVE this hardware store. I would go so far as to say it MUST be the best in the world. Duncan likes the wide well-ordered aisles, and I, who like hardware stores in general because I like to look at the eclectic variety of items on sale, love the displays of motorbikes, several American cars from the sixties including a Ford Thunderbird and a Chevy Camaro and an old fashioned delivery van. Where would you ever find a functioning hardware store cum museum like this?

Just a few more motorcycles!

We are staying in Invercargill with an ATC couple, Russell and Ann Beck, who inform us that there is a new statue of Burt in town as well as a room devoted to him in the local Southland Museum where Russell was a former director. We spent most of the morning visiting these “shrines”. It turns out Burt was quite focused on his motorcycle to the exclusion of most other things in life. Coincidentally he used Russell’s father’s workshop to work on his bikes when Russell was a boy. Apparently he never held a job, that Russell remembers, he just devoted himself to working on his bikes and racing whenever he got the chance. New Zealand is a small country where it sometimes seems that all the inhabitants know each other.  The couple up at Moeraki told us that Burt’s Munro’s son is a farmer near them. Russell and Ann also know Rob Hall-Jones, the helicopter pilot who flew us over Doubtful Sound in Fiordland in 2010. In fact they practically recite his family tree and tell us how he takes after his mother rather than his father!

Also staying with Russell and Ann is a famous NZ landscape photographer, Andris Apse, who is working upon a book with Russell. We find out later that both of them have received NZ highest honour, the New Zealand Order of Merit. This is similar to Britains OBE (order of the British Empire) and CBE (Companion of the British Empire) or Canada’s Order of Canada. Ann shows us a beautiful book on New Zealand Greenstone or Pounamu that they collaborated upon in the past. We wish we could buy it and lug it home. It must weighat least 2 kilos. http://www.andrisapse.com/books.htm

Because we have to catch our flight to Stewart Island, we reluctantly leave Hayes Hardware Store wishing we had more time to get lost for an hour or so in those well ordered aisles. We really do wish you were here Ben! We’d love to see your excitement as you race to see the motorcycles and old cars.
Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Invercargill,+Southland,+New+Zealand&hl=en&ll=-46.437857,168.398438&spn=25.043128,56.513672&sll=-46.980252,167.783203&sspn=24.800632,56.513672&vpsrc=6&hnear=Invercargill,+Southland,+New+Zealand&t=m&z=4

Dinner at Fleur’s Place

Fleur's Place Dinner after 18 month wait!

We are on our way to a B and B near the Moeraki Boulders so that we can enjoy a meal at Fleur’s Place. This is a very special restaurant we discovered in 2010. We had to be content with a herb scone from the little caravan at the harbour because we hadn’t reserved, and it was a busy Sunday lunchtime. I took LOTS of photos there but had to wait one and one-half years to return for a meal.

We chose our B & B because it is where the famous English restauranteur, Rick Stein, from The Seafood Restaurant in Padstow, Cornwall, UK, stayed when he went to Fleur’s so we knew it had to be fairly close. Duncan and I went to the Cornwall restaurant in the early eighties before it became so famous, and we still remember the meal, particularly the dessert – it was the first time we ever eaten crème brulee.  I remember how satisfying it was to crack the surface of the dessert with a sharp snap of my spoon before eating it. We just stumbled upon it much like we had Fleur’s Place. Sometimes we’re lucky that way, it has something to do with our emphasis on habitually foraging quite seriously for most meals.

The B and B owners, Barbara and John Morgan, live on a deer farm up an unsealed road in the countryside. When we arrive there is a mob of six or seven children enjoying tennis lessons. The place is all go with several dogs running about crazily. John greets us and Barbara arrives to show us our room in an adjacent frame building. She encourages us to go early to Moeraki and enjoy a walk along the beach, and we follow this suggestion. We want to see the boulders again in the sunshine because it was a dull day on our last visit; we are not disappointed, we’ve been so lucky with the weather on this trip. We take several photos including some panoramic ones.



View from our "best table in the house"

The evening couldn’t be more beautiful, the sun is shining and the sea air is bracing. Our table is upstairs looking out on the sea, and our server smiles and tells us we have the best seat in the house. Fleurs, is an old frame building that reminds me of an eccentric establishment one might find in a village in Ireland. It’s famous for miles around with its homely eclectic atmosphere. There are photos, paintings and sculptures around that enhance the seaside atmosphere. Fleur is world famous for her seafood. She buys most fish off the boat from local fishermen. We order the fish special after the female server describes the choices. We choose greenbone which is a fleshy white fish a bit like our pickerel. It comes with lots of steamed vegetables, and a choice of sauces. Mine is caperbutter with lime and Duncan chooses a spinach sauce. While we are waiting we enjoy watching a seagull perched outside our window. New Zealand seagulls are smaller and far more attractive than their North American cousins.  They’re smaller for one thing, have red beaks and legs and this one has gray wing feathers. The food arrives quickly, and we savour every bite washing it down with two glasses of two different types NZ sauvignon blanc. For dessert I opt for rice pudding flavoured with star anise and Duncan goes for the crème brulee with roasted plums. Fleur’s food is what I’d call “down- home gourmet”. The food is fresh, local, generous and unpretentious. The evening was absolutely perfect and worth waiting for all those months.

Lesson on Deer Antlers at the Farm

The next morning we chat to John and Barbara about New Zealand politics, their children and grandchildren and our travels. John pulls his old flat bed truck around to take us on a quick tour of his deer farm. We sit on an old sofa in the open flat bed of the truck, covered with an old rug and bundled in our warmest gear as it has begun to rain. We see newly born fawns hidden by  hinds (does) in the paddocks in addition to stags and hinds. John raises the stags for the “velvet” on their antlers which is bottled and sold to Asians who take it as a health booster. He races us back to the farmhouse as it is raining rather hard and after saying our goodbyes, we are on our way to Invercargill.
Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Moeraki+Boulders,+Oamaru,+New+Zealand&hl=en&ll=-45.336702,170.859375&spn=25.528027,56.513672&sll=-45.77374,169.094368&sspn=3.164932,7.064209&vpsrc=6&hq=Moeraki+Boulders,+Oamaru,+New+Zealand&t=m&z=4

Riverstone Cafe

We set out from Charteris Bay this morning with the idea of having a picnic or stopping at Riverstone Cafe for lunch. This trip out we’ve planned to focus more upon parks and hikes in NZ, because we spent most of our time in cities on our previous trip. We’ve been on the road two and one half hours and I’ve been happily blogging because the road has been very straight. I’m lucky because I can read and type in a moving vehicle whereas Duncan can only stare at the road ahead. So he may as well drive, and I may as well record our adventures. He’s happy because this way I refrain from offering “advice” about the route or his driving techniques.

We’re just outside Oamaru, a town I described extensively in previous postings. We remember Riverstone Cafe, a gourmet destination recommended by a local, and because we haven’t seen any picnic spots, we decide to stop for lunch even though we have reservations at Fleurs Place, the famous restaurant near the Moraki Boulders that was unable to take us on our last visit. Duncan is pessimistic when we drive into the car park even though it is after 1 p.m. The lot is so full we have to park in a farm field, but this is a centre with gift shop, greenhouses and all sorts of distractions so I’m hopeful. Besides, I remember they have a lovely shop, and we can put together a picnic if necessary.  A server greets us with a sparkling smile, asks if we’ve reserved and when we shake our heads says, “No worries, just give us a few moments to clear this large table right in front.” I practically drool around the little shop and peruse the new cookbook by the restaurant’s renowned chef, Bevan Smith.

The servers are so genuinely friendly, I find myself wondering for the umpteenth time why New Zealanders are the friendliest people on this earth. In general people smile and appear so happy to be alive. Is it because the country is relatively sparsely populated? I’ll have to discuss with our Kiwi relations when I see them. If you think about it, countries that are densely populated, say Japan or England, have inhabitants who are intensely polite, but who value privacy to the extreme. Another very pleasant feature is that going to a restaurant is a pretty casual relaxed affair here. Even famous restaurants like this one are unpretentious and welcoming. 

We enjoy a superb lunch of fried whitebait (a tiny little fish) with roast garlic aoli and lemon, fresh sourdough bread and fennel and rocket (arugula) salad. We order a side of fries with mayo as they like to serve them here. They are thickly cut with skins still on and absolutely delicious. We rarely have fries, but these are worth the calories, in spite of our dinner reservations. We’re pretty sated and think we really should pass up dessert, but our server assures us that the panna cotta with stewed spring rhubarb on the side is smallish, and we can share so we order it along with two flat whites – double shots. The dessert is perfect, creamy with lots of vanilla bean flecks in evidence and the coffee is the best we’ve had so far. We’re awfully glad we stopped in the first place and indulged in dessert. It was well worth indulging when we had the opportunity. Maybe we’ll pass dessert up at Fleur’s Place, but then again, maybe not!

As we are driving along Duncan who is looking at the road ahead, as he should be as the driver, exclaims, “I don’t believe it, there is a man on a penny farthing (this is a very old fashioned bicycle with a very large wheel on the front and a tiny wheel on the back). As I missed the spectacle completely, he agrees to turn around and  using our digital camera, I make a short film of him. We then race ahead and wait for him to appear over the brow of a steep hill. Before too long we see him walking up the hill and he very obligingly crosses the road to mount the bike and turns around to carry on as before. I should mention that he is wearing plus fours (knickers) and a bowler hat.  He asks if we are from Oamaru and I shout, “No, Canada!” “Are you coming to Oamaru tomorrow?” When I reply,  “No, “ he says, “You should be, it’s our heritage festival, the biggest event of the year!” So we may have to return and as we don’t have far to go to get to Invercargill, we probably will, we’ll see. This explains why we saw some people dressed in Victorian costumes in the car park at the restaurant. I thought maybe there was a special event going on there.
Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Oamaru,+Otago,+New+Zealand&hl=en&ll=-44.197959,170.969238&spn=6.50665,14.128418&sll=-45.336702,170.859375&sspn=25.528027,56.513672&vpsrc=6&hnear=Oamaru,+Otago,+New+Zealand&t=m&z=6&iwloc=A

Broken Heart

Lyttelton's Empty Spaces

Site of Deli in Lyttelton (we think!)

Today is our last day on the beautiful Banks Peninsula, and we’ve set it aside to go into Christchurch to get some idea of the devastation caused by the earthquake in Feb. 2011. Our hosts at Charteris Bay described their experiences briefly when we arrived. Gary said he and Belinda fled outside and watched as the sides of their house bulged outward during the quake. In spite of this their house and all the others in this region appear untouched. One would never know that the epicentre was only a 20 minute drive from their house around the bay in the small town of Lyttelton.  Unfortunately Lyttelton was nearly devastated by the quake. There are ships in the harbour, but the ships that brought tourist trade in the past have deserted because so many businesses have either disappeared altogether or are operating in a limited manner out of trailers or cargo containers. The ships now go to nearby Akaroa, a beautiful town with a French flavour further out on the peninsula. Very few businesses remain open on the main street, and many buildings are gone completely as is the deli we liked so well. We walk to where we think it was located and find only a big empty lot. The used bookstore is gone though there is a sign saying it has moved further up the hill. I bought a biography of Janet Frame there and it sits on the beside table at home; I haven’t read it yet, I guess I saved it from the quake by carting it home to Canada. It looks as though some of the homes surrounding these streets are inhabited but many appear to be empty.

CBD Christchurch

Cashel Mall made from shipping containers

The heart of Christchurch, the CBD (Central Business District), is broken, surrounded by fencing, danger signs and a few tourists like us taking pictures and walking outside the cordoned areas, craning to get a better look. I admit to feeling a bit guilty going in to see the damage and taking photos. It’s a bit like taking photos at a funeral, but as we were here so recently I feel I must in order to appreciate the havoc caused by such a natural disaster. We park at the supermarket where we had stocked up in February 2010 and walk to the centre trying to get our bearings. All the landmarks we remember are either empty lots or are beyond  the barriers. The used bookshops, backpacker hostels and bars are simply gone. Ballantynes, the department store where I bought a legendary cake pan for my friend, Ros, is open for business and at one end we find large brightly coloured shipping containers where some of the devastated businesses have bravely set up shop calling it the newly reopened Cashel Mall. There is a gourmet store, a bookstore, a few coffee shops and some clothing stores. Two of the banks are operating out of large mobile trailers. We follow the tram tracks to the river and can see Cathedral Square from a distance. The 

Hotel in CBD

Anglican Cathedral and another stone church look like they were hit by bombs, missing towers and entire walls. We slowly  piece the city back together in our minds using some of the buildings still standing as landmarks - the Art Gallery, some other arts buildings including small shops we’d enjoyed in the past; the outdoor pub where we’d sipped our flat whites in the summer sunshine would be just to the side of them. We slowly retrace our steps and I wonder where all the people who used to work and study here have gone. There are only cranes, construction workers and buildings with large red, yellow or pink scrawls on the facades, presumably put there by rescue workers and obviously conveying important information we are unable to decipher. How sad and strange that the quake could have hit anywhere in this area, but it hit Christchurch - at its heart.

Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Christchurch,+Canterbury,+New+Zealand&hl=en&ll=-43.564472,170.793457&spn=6.576043,14.128418&sll=-44.197959,170.969238&sspn=6.50665,14.128418&vpsrc=6&hnear=Christchurch,+Canterbury,+New+Zealand&t=m&z=6

Building on Columbo St.

Church in CBD

Back in Aotearoa

View of Belinda and Gary's Garden from our Cottage

We are now back in New Zealand after spending five weeks in Australia. It’s great to be back in Aotearoa, “The Land of the Long White Cloud”. Our trip on Air New Zealand was really quick only two and one half hours from Melbourne to Christchurch. After staying at an airport hotel we’ve returned to Charteris Bay on the Banks Peninsula.

It’s great to be back at this little holiday flat attached to the home of Belinda and Gary. We stayed here four nights on our previous trip and were in touch by email with the owners during both recent earthquakes, Sept. 2010 and February 2011, to find out how they were making out. After the first quake, Gary installed a generator, so Belinda reported they were relatively unscathed during the second. We knew they lived very close to Lyttelton, the last quake’s epicentre, so we were very surprised to hear this news, though many of their friends were not so lucky. It’s great to chat with them again. They are British and actually lived in a town very close to Duncan’s hometown of Yeovil when Gary was serving with the British navy before emigrating to New Zealand.

All is just as we remembered, a spacious apartment with a beautiful private garden on display outside the large picture windows. We could live here forever. The surrounding steep sheep covered hills are reminiscent of our beloved Yorkshire Dales where we have returned many times to hike.

The first evening we hike down their road to Orton Bradley Park where we dutifully pay our $10 and stroll around the grounds. There is a magnificent rhododendron garden, and we snap too many photos just revelling in the natural beauty. This land was left to the state and includes an outdoor education centre, a rope training facility, a small campground, an adventure play structure for smaller children and numerous well marked trails heading off into the nearby hills and vales. We take a short hike and return home for dinner of fresh monkfish fillet purchased on our way to Charteris Bay that afternoon.

The following afternoon we return to hike along gullies, up hills and dales and through farm fields. We enter one field where three little lambs come running to greet us. They are as friendly as most New Zealanders seem to be and we wonder if hospitality is included in their training!  Today’s hike is the one we thought we’d be taking at Cradle Mountain, a moderate trail, up, down and all around but nothing we can’t handle easily given our ages and levels of fitness. We return home tired and happy; this is exactly why we came here. What a beautiful spot to start getting in shape for the more challenging NZ hikes that lie ahead: the Kepler Track, Abel Tasman, and the Queen Charlotte Track. I should explain that we will do day hikes only, we’re not up to tramping and sleeping in huts anymore. I loved backpacking in my youth, carrying everything I needed with me, rising to the challenges and unexpected occurrences.  I even took an Outward Bound course in 1983. Now we wear ourselves out during the day, but enjoy warm showers, hot meals and comfy beds at night. Duncan has never been keen on camping so over the years I’ve become accustomed to creature comforts too.

She Chocolate

On our second day we discover that French Farm, a destination we vowed to revisit in the past, isn’t open for casual dining during the spring season. It was closed for lunch when we were here last, and I really wanted to enjoy a meal there, so I vowed to return if we made it back to NZ. It is a wedding or reception only venue and depends upon outside catering anyway, so we head off to She Chocolate at nearby Governor’s Bay.

This is a place of worship for chocolate lovers from near or far. In fact there are some very boisterous Germans at a long nearby table.  There is a “Chocolate School” here, and it is a retreat centre so I wonder if the Germans are here to study chocolate, retreat or both.  

Wow! It is very difficult to choose from this extensive menu. The last time we were here, we just chose the Chocolate plate and sampled every item. This time we’re hungry for lunch so we order a plate of breads, salads of beet carpaccio with feta cheese dressed with raspberry vinaigrette and garnished with chocolate nibs! It’s a little strange, but not unpleasant, to taste chocolate and vinegar together.  Dessert is another story. I peruse the Chocolate Elixer Drinks menu and settle on She’s Belgian Hot Chocolate. I include a verbatim description from the menu: “a RICH and true hot chocolate experience made with the finest Belgian Chocolate. Our secret? Daring to use outrageous amounts of chocolate combined with our love and passion...” Not abstemious like Duncan, I choose the Extra Dark version: “with a shot of 100% chocolate added to our original recipe – this is one for those who love dark, dark chocolate”.

She Belgian Hot Chocolate Extra Dark

Duncan falls for She’s Affrogato  “The finest vanilla bean ice cream served with a double shot of espresso, a shot of pure melted chocolate, chocolate flakes and chocolate meringues. This is a fine play of flavours that will leave the palate and the heart truly satisfied. (Gluten free!)”

Affrogato

On our table is a little notice that states: “The mix of flavours moving around your palate are the dance of ones life, love and spirit coming together to create a wow factor”.  Bernie Prior
You can find out more about this life loving chocolate worshipper at www.bernieprior.com

While enjoying these delicious indulgences, the earth moves - literally! There is a tremor and we find out later it registered 3.7 on the Richter Scale. NZ has small earthquakes all the time, but this Christchurch area is still shaking. Belinda told us they had a 5.0 recently when they had some other Canadians staying. I wouldn't want to be up on Dyers when the shaking starts let me tell you!

These treats were so good, we returned the next day for lunch, a delicious white bean and leek soup garnished with oil and bits of spicy chorizo (no chocolate) plus pita bread and dips of pumpkin, spicy tomato relish and balsamic reduction. Having binged the day before, we restrain ourselves to one square of chocolate with our flat whites. The Germans are still there at the same table so I guess they are on retreate at the chocolate school. Lucky Germans!
Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Charteris+Bay,+New+Zealand&hl=en&ll=-43.651975,172.705078&spn=3.28316,7.064209&sll=49.891235,-97.15369&sspn=23.430526,56.513672&vpsrc=6&hnear=Charteris+Bay,+Canterbury,+New+Zealand&t=m&z=7

Wildlife Watch

The Elusive Platypus

Each night in the Cradle Mountain area we venture out to see the wildlife. The first night we depart when it’s already dark so we take our flashlight and walk to the road. We see only one wallaby who stares at us for a few minutes before bounding off into the night. We flash the light around but no resident wombats appear so we retire to our room to read our books. The second night we head out in the car at dusk and drive to the Cradle Mountain Lodge about five minutes from our cabin. Our aim is to follow Pencil Pine Creek where park literature indicated that we might see a platypus. However before setting off, we pause in close proximity to the lodge where some people are looking intently at a pond that sports a fly fishing sign and a warning to throw back any fish that are caught. Proceeding along a narrow path, we see a telltale circle of bubbles and within few seconds a small creature surfaces briefly and then disappears. We watch for about ten minutes, and follow its progress around to the far side of the pond.  We are sure we are seeing the elusive creature that a majority of Australians have never seen in the wild. When we went to Wild World in Sydney in 2010 where all creatures were in captivity, we could not see the elusive platypus even though it was supposed to be there. He must have been hiding in his burrow.

So this trip determined in our efforts, we made a pilgrimage enroute to Launceston to Beauty Point in the Tamar Valley to visit Platypus House, similar to a platypus zoo, only to find that it had closed a half hour earlier. We thought perhaps we could leave time after our Cradle Mountain sojourn to return for the guided visit. In Deloraine at the salmon farm the legendary creatures were guaranteed to be in residence but not appearing at lunchtime.  The owner told us to look in the creeks at Cradle Mountain National Park, and we might be lucky. The lady at the tourist information office in that town advised us to go have a drink at the pub in nearby Mole Creek, but the weather wasn’t really amenable so we kept driving.  And here we just pull up to the lodge and find platypus in the pond. I hope you realize what an unlikely scenario this is – these are elusive dawn/dusk creatures, what is this one doing bobbing in the pond next to the car park? Duncan suggests we approach a small beach for a better look and doesn’t the creature oblige by coming so near that we can see his entire smallish body (about 15 inches long). It’s confirmed, this IS a platypus, the genuine article. Now this is a red letter day.  Won’t my friend Keila who has lived in Australia for years and never seen one, be jealous? Woo hoo! In addition to the platypus we see a wallaby, a wombat and a pademelon.

Potaroo

The next night we return at the same time having assured the Aussie owner of our cabins, who has never seen a platypus that it is a sure bet. Just go to the pond at 7 p.m.  But no platypus, not a bubble not a bobble, nothing. Now will you believe how lucky we were? We did see a Potaroo though, now that’s a first too.








Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Cradle+Mountain+Lodge,+Cradle+Mountain,+Australia&hl=en&ll=-41.508577,145.898438&spn=101.613143,226.054688&sll=-43.651975,172.705078&sspn=3.28316,7.064209&vpsrc=6&hq=Cradle+Mountain+Lodge,+Cradle+Mountain,+Australia&t=m&z=2

Hike from Hell

Today we chose a hike around Dove Canyon that most people don’t take, according to the documentation in our cabin. We read the description, and it sounded very pleasant, moderately difficult but outside the National Park so not included in our detailed map, though it does appear if you look carefully. Moderate sounds good because we did a lot of climbing yesterday so we’re up for a pleasant stroll around the canyon. After following the Overland Track departing from the Interpretation Centre, after about 15 minutes  we reach the turn off point. There is a red sign warning that this part of the track is not maintained, and we know that because it is not one of the national park trails. We figure that means it will be mucky and won’t have the neat boardwalk, stairs etc., but we expect that - it will be more like the trails we are accustomed to in Canada.  Sure enough the first part has muck but we soldier on always thinking we can turn back if it’s too awful, this is why we’ve trudged through airports wearing our hiking boots – just for trails like this. We figure it will get us in shape for New Zealand where the tracks are definitely NOT for sissies!  I keep comparing it to the tracks in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York that we hiked in our more youthful years. In fact we were stuck on Mt. Marcy, the highest point in the state, in the middle of a thunderstorm with Keila and Henri, our Kuranda friends. As I had only just met Duncan, I figured it would be the end of our relationship when he tripped and fell and had to limp and slip down the mountain to the first shelter we could find. Compared to that, this trail is not difficult at all.

We begin to descend down into a fairly dense eucalypt forest where the mud starts to disappear replaced by rocks and tree roots, a bit easier going. Soon we hear the welcome sound of water and know we are approaching the gorge.  This is good because our map is quite basic, but does show the gorge. There is a disconcerting sign warning hikers to stay behind wires as there are steep cliffs ahead. I am reminded this is a moderate trail - “How hard can it be?.”  Before too long we see the steep cliffs and begin to descend into the deep gorge via granite boulders. Hmmm, this requires crouching, sitting on the rocks, sliding down - very carefully.  I am in the lead thinking that we can still turn back if it’s too hard. I warn Duncan to descend slowly to avoid slipping and give me LOTS of time so I don’t feel pressured to move at a faster pace. I wonder when we will find these infamous barrier wires. It takes about ten minutes more threading our way down – VERY slowly and carefully.  I’m reminded of Elvira, my mule in Moloka’i; she didn’t take a step until she was secure. Thanks for setting such a good example Elvira.

By now, the wind has picked up and it looks like it’s going to rain, so going back is out of the question. I wouldn’t want to reverse this process and climb up that ridge in the rain.  Finally the barrier wire, I traverse horizontally behind it and wait at the end for Duncan to catch up. I’m so glad he wears a red anorak, I can see him quite clearly back on the trail.  The rain starts, and we are on a fairly level part so we don our rain pants and soldier ahead. 

Finally the trail gets easier and as we are descending into another heavily wooded area, and lo and behold, we see two people approaching us from below. These are the first people we’ve seen on this ‘moderate’ trail. As the young couple pass, they reassure us the rest of the trail is slow over mossy roots but not too bad. As they are wearing only running shoes, we warn them about the steep climb they have ahead of them, up granite boulders.  We wish them well (and I say a little prayer).

We lose the trail  in a densely wooded area and see another couple below who say they’ve lost it too so we retrace our steps to find the markers, climb higher and find ourselves in a  sunny wildflower meadow. Whew, it looks like we are coming out and nearly finished so we decide to retrace our steps of the last fifteen minutes or so to look for a lunch spot near the waterfall that we had bypassed. We haven’t taken any photos on this trail, we’ve been too busy taking one step at a time just to stay upright.  But, no luck, no lunch spot, so we return to the meadow and enjoy our lunch admiring the flowers. I look down at my wrist and see that’ve I’ve cut it on some rocks, but wait, no actually I’ve picked up a leech somewhere. Duncan starts examining himself and finds a much bigger leech on his knee. I guess it’s just been on him a bit longer. Feeling lucky that we found them early on, we examine ourselves all over before starting out again. How much further? Fifteen or twenty minutes across a buttongrass meadow, I figure.

We hike further into the meadow and it becomes close, dense and muddier, any minute I expect we’ll find the buttongrass meadow and we’ll be out. But then I realize we are circling back into the gorge, and  I start to become concerned. Will we be required to scale those granite cliffs after all? We descend and actually cross the gorge so that the water is on our right again. Hmmm, not the buttongrass meadow or the exit as I expected.   Are we heading into the outback somewhere? Then I spy a bridge in the near distance. Civilization!  We pass another red sign warning about the unmaintained track, but this is for those going in the opposite direction so we know we are now on one of the tracks near Cradle Mountain Lodge. We pass Knyvet Falls, follow the Pencil Pine River and finally come out at the Cradle Mountain Store as described in the literature in our cabin.  At this point, we read all the signs for those who are embarking on this trail in the opposite direction. There are warning signs that this trail is rated as difficult NOT moderate, requires a HIGH level of fitness and ADVANCED navigational skills.  Well I guess so! Had we approached the trail from this direction rather than as described in our room, we would have avoided it completely! Totally whacked, we head over to the Cradle Mountain Lodge Tavern to sample their frosty Boag’s beer, both types, ale and lager – recompense for the past three hours.  Back at Pademelon Cabin I describe the hike from hell and scratch out ‘moderate’ saving some poor souls this experience in future.
Click Below to See Map:
http://maps.google.ca/maps?q=Cradle+Mountain+Lodge,+Cradle+Mountain,+Australia&hl=en&ll=-41.508577,145.898438&spn=101.613143,226.054688&sll=-43.651975,172.705078&sspn=3.28316,7.064209&vpsrc=6&hq=Cradle+Mountain+Lodge,+Cradle+Mountain,+Australia&t=m&z=2