Friday 25 November 2016

New Zealand 7

Now we had a long journey ahead as we decided to spend some time in North Island to replace the train trip.  Back down the lake, as brilliantly coloured as ever, and then out across the increasingly conventional landscape of sheep and cattle farms until we reach the Christchurch plain for the short hop to Auckland.  The countryside is all divided up into huge squares, lined with neatly clipped tree-high windbreaks that made us think of the landscape of Through the Looking Glass.  One thing about NZ is that everyone seems to take immense pride in the place.  Every field boundary, every verge, every garden perfectly manicured and at this time of the year, fresh and bright with new flowers.  Given the size of the country this represents a huge effort for its small population.
A quick heads down at the airport hotel then off first thing to the Bay of Islands.  This is an area I visited 10 years ago and really loved, and Ian also found it very pleasant.  We were extremely lucky with the weather, which helped. We had found a great apartment facing the bay at Paihia, and took it very easy, visiting the Waitangi treaty grounds, crossing the bay to Russell on the little ferry, and doing a bit of home cooking for a change in the evenings.  The treaty grounds and the house of the first British Resident give a detailed idea of the early history.  The Māori actually invited Britain to provide protection.  Whether they regretted it later is not told.  They had heard what the French did to Tahiti, and saw the lawlessness of the trading and whaling port that later became Russell, the hellhole of the South Pacific as it was then known.  Now it's a sleepy tree shaded little village with a ferry pier and NZs oldest pub. The Resident seems to have been left to his own devices by the powers that be but peace generally reined.  The treaty seems to have been respected more than most and has been used as recently as the 1990s to confirm Māori rights such as the ligation to maintain and encourage the language.  
So back to Auckland and the next and most remote stage of our adventure.

New Zealand 6

The drive in to Aoraki gets more and more interesting: first through coastal farmland, with distant views of mountains way across the island in the clear NZ light; then up the Waitaki valley past several lakes.  After a break at Omarama, where bizarrely, there were 15 classic Triumph Stags lined up, some of which we had seen buzzing around earlier, we head up the 90km road to the mountain.  This passes amazingly vivid aquamarine Lake Pukaki, and with each twist the mountains ahead become more visible until a final bend opens up a huge panoramic view of the head of the valley, surrounded by snowy peaks, and the great white cone of Aoraki itself, towering over the rest.  As you approach you can make out the glaciers on its flanks, and across a desolate glacial plane, the Hermitage, our destination for the night.  The sunset and sunrise effects are stunning, and worth this whole trip just to see them.  Clouds swirl about in the valley and come pouring over the ridge from Westland.  We are only a few dozen km from Franz Josef here, but cut off by the Great Divide. The colours change minute by minute. 

Sunday 20 November 2016

New Zealand 5


Next, deep into Fiordland, to Te Anau, another little lakeside town, from where we struck out to Milford Sound.  Rain lashing down, valleys filled with cloud and mist, dramatic but foreboding. Also many Chinese tourists bussed in from Queenstown. But the Sound rises above it all, jaw dropping in scale, near vertical cliffs rising 700m, with full size rain forest trees clinging to them, rise straight out of the water.  The rain meant that hundreds of temporary waterfalls were active, adding to the spectacle. We joined a nature cruise and saw bottlenose dolphins, surfing the bow wave of a cruise ship, as well as seals and blue penguins.  This is one we will always remember. 
Another is Aoroki/Mount Cook, but more on that later.  FIrst we dropped in on Dunedin, where the city fathers in gold rush days had great plans to create the Edinburgh of the south.  While maybe not quite that, it has some very fine Victorian buildings and the same vibe as many boom towns of that era, like Calgary and Glasgow. There is an amazing confection of a station, from where the Taieri Gorge Railway sets out. This has to be one of the craziest places to build a track, along steep fragile cliffs of fragile schist, with dozens of tunnels, and bridges across raging torrents.  We decided to escape the rain and driving (and a small recompense for missing the long scenic coastal trip) by taking this 4 hour excursion and it was well worth it.  The river was fuller than any of the crew could remember and it was a good way to access remote countryside effortlessly.





New Zealand 4

A beautiful relaxing Sunday in Wanaka. This town sits around a bay at the end of its mountain ringed lake, which reflects the snow capped peaks and scudding clouds. The lake is fringed by huge poplars, planted by some far sighted city fathers maybe a hundred years ago, and a footpath that goes for miles, which we followed from our hotel into town, busy with local kids having their annual sports day, racing their bikes at enormous speed.  We didn't do much except take this all in, and then in the afternoon visit the local Rippon winery to sample their very fine pinot noirs (sample = knock back an entire bottle while admiring the view over the lake).  And so early to bed, until a strange sensation starts us as the beds started rocking from side to side.  A very uneasy, queasy sensation, and we realise it's an earthquake.  No panics outside so, thinking it was something minor, we went back to sleep, only to discover next day how serious this had been: a M7.8 quake.  We were over 400km south but still felt it strongly enough to get woken up. We have of course since seen pictures of the devastation caused.  We had been planning to travel by rail from Christchurch right through the affected area to Wellington and Auckland, but have had to rearrange this to fly direct. Nothing compared to the terrible effects on people locally of course, and we felt every sympathy to those who have lost their homes and loved ones.  The rail line and coast road are completely wiped out in many locations by land slides and many communities completely cut off, but NZ authorities are prepared for disaster.

Saturday 12 November 2016

New Zealand 3


After that doom laden first full day in NZ, the weather bucked up and produced another fine spring day for our next leg, to Franz Josef.  A lovely trip, this, down the coastal highway, with the mountains on our left and many scenic reserves to drop in on.  At Lake Mahinapua, the mists still lingered over mirror smooth water, reflecting the lines of forests and mountains rising beyond.  The local birds seemed completely unfazed by the few humans around. A couple of flightless weka angrily (or hornily?) chased each other almost past our feet, while a rare kōtuku, or white heron, played statues in the shallows, then suddenly pounced on a minnow. A blue/black tiu, with its white ruff, fed on nectar from the flax plants. And some more familiar introduced types - blackbirds and chaffinches - sidled up looking for handouts.  We visited a few more lakes and then returned to the coast at Okarito, a little settlement of holiday homes between a lagoon and a wide beach.  The cliffs here are covered almost to the water’s edge with an impenetrable temperate rainforest, very lush.  Big breakers lashed in from the Tasman Sea, everything seemed colourful, bright and fresh, a big contrast to the previous grey day. Finally to Franz Josef, right under the deep valley that holds the glacier.  We ate outside in a pub restaurant as the sun set, barely colouring in the clear air of this unpolluted island.
Next day it was back to grim, with a persistent drizzle shading into solid rain that lasted all day and into the night. Despite this we braved our way to the glacier itself, trekking through rainforest then suddenly out into the desolation at its foot.  Is there anywhere else in the world where sub tropical forest sits cheek by jowl with ice mountains?  We were soaked by the time we got back but thought it was well worth it.  Clouds swirled round the valley, dozens of waterfalls jettisoned their torrents into the black abyss, and the ice hung far above us, dirty blue, now just a remnant of what was there 100 years ago, having shrunk back several km to reveal the dark granite, ground smooth and pulverized to fill the valley all the way out to the sea. A magnificent desolation.  
We seem to be lucky with our big travel days, because the next day was mostly sunny, as we drove further south.  We stopped at Fox’s glacier, rather less forbidding under a blue sky.  Further south, there are farms in the flat valley bottoms between steep sided foothills, but much of the country was inaccessible until well into the 20th century, and feels very remote.  Occasionally the road comes to the coast, as at Ship Creek (I'm tempted to say we had a paddle!) where a magnificent beach is backed by NZ’s unique flora, providing an intriguingly alien treescape.  Soon after that the road detours through a narrow gorge, the Gates of Haast, over a pass and down into a region of big glacial lakes.  The mountains here are more rounded and have been long grazed by vast flocks of sheep, so that it feels a bit like Scotland.  The weather even supported this, as the clouds started to build and throw passing shadows across the hillsides and shimmering patches of sunlight across the water. Here there are huge farms, dairy and sheep, at this time of the year brimming with calves and lambs.  Lots of gorse and bracken.  Wordsworth would have loved it.  We drove along the shores of the lakes, eventually arriving at Wanaka where we had arranged our next stop. 



Friday 11 November 2016

New Zealand 2

New Zealand 1

Another day, another very different beach.  We have reached Hokitika, in South Island’s Westland. Overnight, there was a huge storm - thunder, lightning, torrential rain, the full works - and now there's just grey crashing waves, grey sand and great piles of grey driftwood looming out of grey sea-fog. Then finally, just at sunset, the sun manages to push through, an angry red gash on the horizon.  It could be straight out of Peter Jackson’s apocalyptic vision as the dark forces amass for the final battle. It seems like a metaphor for the news we've just been following on the US election.  Makes for some great pics though!
We arrived here the night before after a mammoth journey from Khao Lak, to Christchurch, where we picked up a car, and across the Great Divide via Arthur’s Pass, in the bright sunshine of a brilliant spring day.  This was a spectacular trip, first through neatly clipped farmland, then up into the gorges of the pass, the plant life all in the first flush of renewal, bright colours and fresh flowers, on empty roads. This crossing gets more spectacular with each turn, especially where it descends steeply on the west.  Stopping in a car park at the top of the pass, we found kea, the green/brown bullies of the parrot world, hanging out for whatever the camper vans throw out.  
The landscape is unique, a rich intertwined carpet of rainforest draped over the bones of NZ’s volcanic past. So we reached Hokitika, 24 hours after we set off, and found a pleasant little town of wide streets and single storey buildings, and friendly people.

Saturday 5 November 2016

Thailand 3

 
I'm getting to know this beach and its wildlife.  And there's lots of it.  I've walked most of the 10km bay, its soft hard sand a good home for crabs.  There are sand coloured crabs that freeze, hoping their camouflage means you won't notice them; then at the last moment they scuttle away sideways to their hole at vast speed. By contrast there are the hermit crabs. Almost every spiral shell on the beach seems to be occupied by one of this tribe, from the smallest to the biggest. They lumber around clumsily and seemingly endlessly, engaged in some Sisyphean task, until someone approaches and then they shut up tight in their temporary home.  There are birds - cormorants out on the rocks; common mynahs grubbing about in loyal pairs, quietly calling to each other when they find something juicy.  There are brown pigeons softly cooing; the occasional sea eagle cruising just above the tree tops, always alert; and way above, a wheeling gang of swallows.  Everywhere there are butterflies, small yellow ones and huge black ones.  I saw a bird swoop down over the wave crests and take one of the bigger ones in its beak, then off again to its high perch as a broken wing came fluttering down. And the sounds: the beach is full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.  At five minutes before sunset precisely, a thousand twangling buzzsaws appear to hum about our ears, then stop just as suddenly, five minutes after: a cricket chorus.  Then all through the night an antiphonal, atonal symphony of frogs, especially after a rain storm. We wake, and wish to dream again!
Ian is now largely recovered, the bruising fading. Tomorrow, after our extended stay, we move on to NZ and a very different experience.  But the memories will remain, and I'm sure we will be back to this perfect beach.