The last
few days have been rather difficult, mainly because of ill health for both The
Chauffeur and The Scribe, however today brought sunshine, dry weather, no
headaches or severe neck pain for me and appetite and wellness for Chris. Thank
goodness for that! We do not do “sick” well, and have spent the last six years
studiously avoiding anyone who looks diseased; a self-enforced quarantine. Obviously
we failed this last week.
The evening
at the Petone Working Men’s Club was successful, in that we enjoyed a very nice
meal at a very fair price, something clubs like this do so well, and Chris spent
an exciting evening sitting in front of a big screen with fellow boxing
appreciators, although he and his new acquaintances all shared the view that
the wrong strong man won. Subsequent discussion in the newspapers has revealed
they were not the only ones to think so. For myself, I am just glad I did not
have to watch it; each to his (or her) own.
The
following morning the rain cleared in time for us to head off and dump before
arriving at the Bluebridge ferry terminal. The winds were still strong and the
temperatures winter like. The crossing was rough and I was seasick and
unfortunately smitten with severe pain spasms which proved to be distressing
for fellow passengers who were subjected to my vocal distress from time to
time, and embarrassing for me who should have been more staunch. We arrived a
little after our scheduled docking time, but drove through to Blenheim
uneventfully, settling into the Waterlea Racecourse which allows NZMCA members
park over facilities.
As per
every other time we have stayed there, we woke to the sound of hooves, trotters
in training, most in harness arrangements paced by motor vehicle. We made use
of the water supply and cleaned out our shower, something we should do more
often. Then we headed into town, had some printing done, shopped then headed
south down the Wairau valley on Highway 63.
We had
expected a lot more traffic than we encountered, given that this was now the
new alternative main highway south toward Christchurch albeit a large inland
loop rather than the logical coastal route that is currently out of action, but
instead the holdups were road works, lollypop people with their Stop / Go signs
who take delight it flipping them just as you approach the narrow through road.
One way bridges are also a common feature on this road and yet another obstacle
to those trying to blat on through to Christchurch. Fortunately we were in no
great hurry and Chris was by now feeling quite unwell with a stomach upset.
He spent
the next day eating nothing so I knew his illness was for real. We were truly a
sorry pair, however we did press on even if at a more measured pace. We
overnighted at the NZMCA Park at Murchison, and then the next morning took the opportunity
to stretch our legs walking up the road to the eastern edge of the town and
back.
Although we
had initially considered taking the detour around through Greymouth and across
Arthur’s Pass, we changed our mind and took the route through Springs Junction
and over the Lewis Pass. The road follows the Buller River for a few kilometres
out of Murchison and then turns south staying with the beautiful Maruia River.
We pulled into the DOC camp at Marble Hill just after Springs Junction and
lunched, or at least I lunched and Chris immediately fell asleep.
After a
while he woke and we pressed on through the lovely South Island beech forest,
up past Maruia Springs and climbed up over the Lewis Pass. A road sign had
warned travellers at Springs Junction that there had been an accident on the
Pass, but we thought it would be well clear by the time we came on through.
As we
descended the eastern side of the Pass, following first the Lewis River, then
the Boyle, and then the Hope River into which these flow, we were reminded how
spectacular the scenery is on this route. The wide braided riverbeds, especially
of the Hope and the Waiau which we soon reached, were amass of pale yellow
lupin flowers and the banks bordered with the purple – blue of flowering
borage. It was all so stunningly beautiful and we were glad we were not too
late in the season to see this floral extravaganza.
Our way had
been unhindered to that point, apart from the fact we needed to take care with
all the extra traffic on the road, the trucks and trailers mostly choosing this
route rather than the more southern over Arthur’s Pass, but then we suddenly
came upon the remains of the accident that had caused the road to be closed for
an hour. Fortunately traffic management allowed us to take our turn through the
narrowed carnage. A truck loaded with compacted rubbish had hit a bank and
rolled, fortunately causing only minor injuries, but the clean-up was going to
be more of an issue.
We pressed
on passing the turn off to Hanmer Springs, still following the Waiau River, but
turning toward Culverden, rather than following the river to view the
devastation of the small settlement of Waiau. Surely that would have only been
voyeurism?
Just south
of Culverden, the rural settlement which was the spot mentioned in the same
breath as epicentre of the November 14th earthquake, we saw no
evidence of devastation, but then we were not seeking to be voyeurs here
either. Instead we made our way to the Balmoral Forest Reserve and set up for
the night. We have stayed here before, but then in the middle of the summer
when the camp has been packed out with families. This time there were perhaps
half a dozen other parties, each settled into private corners of the pine tree populated
park area.
Chris immediately
fell asleep after declining dinner, so we passed a rather quiet evening.
Contrary to the previous couple of nights when we had wrapped ourselves in
blankets to stay warm, the weather was a little warmer and our night more
comfortable.
The morning
saw lyrical magpies and swooping grey herons, sunshine and happier humans. My
three or four day headache had lifted and I found myself a little more mobile.
Chris faced breakfast, then later, lunch and finally tonight dinner; I made a
special effort to cook him something that required effort and imagination. I
was duly encouraged when his plate was scraped clean.
Leaving the
Balmoral Forest late in the morning, we travelled on, having been on Highway 7
ever since Springs Junction, enjoying the landscapes stretching back to the
mountains to the west, snow splattered, rivers as picturesque as those seen the
day before. We pulled into the Waikari Domain to dump, here where there is a
lovely little camp which tourists travelling on the cheap in their whizz-bang
vans choose to stay. On we drove through the Weka Pass admiring the rock
formations reminiscent of the Elephant Rocks not too far out of Oamaru much
further to the south.
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| Lunch at Saltwater Creek |
Our run
south early in the afternoon was pretty straight forward although there is an
awful lot of road works going on through the airport area. In another year
there will be a smart motorway all the way west of the city. Our Tomtom wisely
directed us to turn off and take back roads through Yaldhurst to our camp here
at Weedons.
We have
stayed here many times before, although the last time was almost two years ago.
In the interim there have been major changes; the community shed has been
beautified and extended to include a laundry and a couple of toilets. I was
delighted to find the washing machine, demanding a modest $2 per load, and immediately
took advantage of this, the washing soon bone dry in the warm breeze.
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| Sunset from our camp at Weedons |
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