9 January 2017 - South Beach NZMCA Park, Westport

Here we are back again in wet Westport, planning to stay the second night in a row, not because we are frightened to get wet but because we had problems with our 12 volt outlet plugs, and how can one exist without charging cellphones and the computer! Fortunately there was a sheet hanging in the lean-to, up above the obsolete fridge that contains the register and books for exchange, recommending the services of local “Cole”; he turned up in the rain after lunch and pulled the cabinetry apart to locate a blown fuse, reassembled everything and we were right again. However we had already paid for a further night and were not willing to forgo our whole $6! (We did worse than that in the Holianga for the sake of water.)

Connecting gold mining to Constant Bay

Yesterday morning we woke at Punakaiki to the sound of tuis surrounded by the beautiful flowering rata and eighty something other camping parties; the latter not entirely fitting with our modus operandi. Still one could not get away from the fact that the camp was in the most wonderful position and I was glad we had stayed there.

We hung about until nearly 10am, taking full advantage of the mains electricity and watching everyone head off again onto the road, most probably trying to “do”the South Island in three weeks or less. We were in no hurry as we followed suit heading north again. We stopped at the Truman Track, a very short walk from the road down to the beach through unspoiled sub-tropical forest, rimu and rata trees towering above thickets of nikau and kiekie. The track emerges on to a ledge above the wild sea, from where, when the tide is out and the sea more benign, you might walk along to a waterfall. It was raining and we remained on the flax covered ledge taking in the scene before returning. As we did so we encountered a bus load of young travellers to whom we were invisible; they obviously thought the bush path was for the young and beautiful.

Hardy beach goers at Constant Bay

About ten kilometres north, we pulled into a space near the bridge over the Fox River. There were cars and vans everywhere; the Sunday market was on. I had seen the signs the previous day advertising the event and did wonder whether we would be able to find a park, suspecting the market would be set up in the car park at the beginning of the Fox River Cave Walk. The market itself was on private property adjacent to the car park and surprisingly full of an eclectic assortment of crafts and food. None of it was crying out to be bought by us, however it was entertaining to browse and observe the people there. 

Chris on Flagstaff Hill

The car park was full, but with customers and a few folk who had braved the weather and conditions. I had suggested to Chris that we set off and see how far we could get without having to wade through riverbeds; I was not willing to subject myself to any discomfort today. We knew too that the branch to the cave was closed to walkers so it was simply a matter of following the river as far as conditions allowed. Well, we didn’t get very far. Five minutes or so in, we came upon a wide muddy expanse of water and decided to turn back. A poor effort after all!

We travelled on up the lovely coast road, winding about the cliff side, a road rated by The Lonely Planet as one of the world’s top 10 coastal drives. Arriving back at Charleston, we turned seaward to Constant Bay where we parked up for lunch and our daily constitutional. The rain had relented, or at least enough to encourage the short walk along the cliff through giant flax then on the other side of the little bay, up to Flagstaff Hill. We returned along the beach picking our way across large stones and dried bull kelp.

Constant Bay

Charleston was another nine days wonder in the story of West Coast goldmining; the “nine days” is an exaggeration. Prior to 1866 there were no Europeans here but in July of that year, payable gold was discovered and within months thouands of diggers had flocked to the goldfield. Charleston emerged on the terrace behind Constant Bay; at one time there were over eighty hotels here. At its peak Charleston had a population of about 12,000, many having come from the goldfields of Australia, Otago and Hokitika. But by late 1870 the easy pickings had dwindled and by 1875 the population had fallen to 900.  

Stones and Bull Kelp

Constant Bay was established as a port in late 1866 and soon this little bay was a hive of activity. Despite the narrow and dangerous entry, small ships up to 40 tonnes were able to enter when the sea conditions were favourable. Different coloured flags flown on Flagstaff Hill communicated whether it was safe or not to enter into the bay. It would seem that some paid no heed; there were numerous mishaps and disasters. According to the local newspaper, over two hundred vessels had used the port in its first seven months. Up to six ships were in port at any one time which we found astounding as we surveyed the bay today. By 1879 the port was closed.

Thirty kilometres further on we arrived in Westport returning to this secure little camp, where we still are as I write this. We had intended to head north today, but now that will have to wait until tomorrow.  Instead I am taking advantage of the fact that Chris has the generator running and there is internet here albeit only a couple of bars.

One of the highlights of this morning was of an avian kind; a great flock of fifty or more wood pigeons rising from the scrubby area behind us which is full of ornamental cherry trees. Many flew high up into the top of the pine tree that sits at one end of the camp, balancing precariously in the upper most tips. I have never seen more than two or three wood pigeons in flight like this; they are not at all like their cousins who habituate public squares in Europe. Unlike those we saw up in the Tararua Forest, these were far leaner. The excess rain in this region has apparently not helped the abundance of food. They continued to relocate from one spot top another all morning for no apparent reason but to provide us with entertainment.