Friday, 20 February 2015

19 February 2015 - Sylvan DOC Camp, Mt Aspiring National Park, Otago



 We made a point of making our way back into Queenstown immediately after breakfast, in the hope of securing a park in the upper Council car park in Gorge Road, which we did without too much hassle, although I suggested we might end up being blocked in as the car park filled later in the day.  We shopped for items at the nearby Fresh Choice missed in the previous day’s visit to Frankton’s New World, then after lunch, went to the movies, as you do on a gorgeous sunny day in Queenstown!

The movie was one Chris was keen to see; Kingsman;  Secret Service starring Colin Firth and Michael Caine among other less familiar faces, and we loved it! It is a shocking movie, blood thirsty, gory, ridiculous and very funny. (I really do wonder about the state of our morals and minds to find such mass killing so, however we decided it was probably similar to those finding Tom & Jerry funny, all so very ridiculous that it was okay to consider it so)

Returning to the car park, we were distracted by para-gliders floating hither and thither across the sky above us, all having leapt off the heights above, to which one can take a lift by gondola. I was most taken with the idea of a tandem ride on the thermals, and was on the brink of committing to such frivolous expenditure, however Chris had lost part of his tooth during lunch . Further exanimation proved that this was not part of those left au naturel in his mouth, but part of the prosthetics. Imagining the cost of repair put paid to selfish indulgence; Chris was not keen to doing the leap of faith himself, having been underwhelmed some years ago by the bungy jump over the Kawarau River.

Needless to say, we were trapped into the car park or thought ourselves so. We showered and read the paper without little movement happening immediately about us even though there was an exodus from other corners of the car park. Finally we decided to give it a go; I expected us to attempt a ten point reversal and then get caught in a no-return situation half way through, but no, we had underestimated the steering lock on our new Mercedes truck, and came out carefully in one go! We found the BP Truck stop further up Gorge Road, filling at the highest price for some weeks, then made our way to the Public Dump side perched up beside the cemetery high on the hill, an appalling facility but one we will be bound to use again in a few more days as there is nothing to the north.

Back at camp, we found our space of the previous day still vacant and set up, late but still early enough to enjoy the views and the mass entry of other campers. Yesterday morning we had reckoned there would have been over one hundred parties, and there was no reason to think last night was any different.

The forecasted rain did arrive, but not much more than a drizzle, yet strange to say, we later discovered one of the walking tracks to the north closed because of flooding, so perhaps I did sleep particularly well after all. Not in a rush to head out into wet conditions, we lingered, attempting a Sudoku and generally messing about until we felt if we left it much longer we would have to register for another night.

Glenorchy is only about fifty kilometres north on the same eastern shore of Lake Wakatipu, the distance varying depending on which map, sign or brochure you read. While sealed and two lane except for a few bridges, it is a good road, rising gently up and down along close to the shore and would have been even better today had there not been a party of a several dozen cyclists, most on tandems, heading the same way as us. Most had grey hair escaping from the bottom of their helmets and none looked very athletic, but to their credit, none were riding two abreast which is something that really turns my driver into a raving lunatic. But shall I say it would have been a happier journey had there been no cyclists.

We had read that there are many little free camping spots along the roadside once past the “No Free Camping” sign on the outskirts of Queenstown and beyond the DOC camp we had spent two nights in, but all those spotted were small uneven intimate sites, suitable only for little whizz-bang vans, and the by-law states that only “self-contained motorhomes” may make use of these places. In effect, the Queenstown Lakes Council has made matters so ridiculous, it is a Clayton’s law; they don’t want free camping anywhere at all.

While the clouds were still low, obscuring the many peaks normally visible from the road, the views were still beautiful; ethereal, atmospheric. Here and in this general area are the landscapes that inspired Peter Jackson to film his epic fantasies, the locations for so much of Middle Earth.

We arrived in Glenorchy, home to only a few hundred people, most involved in adventure tourism. Here there is a school, a garage that doubles as the post office and sells newspapers, a pub and a couple of cafes, a General Store that seems to only sell souvenirs and crafts and not newspapers, and not a lot else. We and all the other travellers who followed us up the road drove down to the lake edge and watched the busloads of tourists alight from the buses, board the Dart River jet boats and zoom away to the north for their own pant wetting adventure. I say “pant wetting”, because we were fascinated by the fact that every time one of these boats came in and disgorged its passengers, it was put on a boat trailer and hauled away by a tractor especially for the purpose. We decided that since the tourists were paying so very much for their adventure, they would expect a pristine craft to convey them, and given that the wild ride on the jet boat may well cause some to throw up or wet themselves ….. well, that was our take on it anyway.

Here there is an old jetty, still strong enough to support then many who wandered out and looked down the lake and up toward the mountains between which flow the Dart and Rees Rivers. And inside the red boat shed is an excellent interpretative display including many historical photographs of Glenorchy in its heyday.

I have already made mention of gold mining in the region although that with reference to Queenstown was more related to Arrowtown and the Shotover River. Near here gold was discovered at the Bucklerburn, where a canvas town of three hundred miners sprang up. By the height of the gold rush, gold seekers worked every river and creek flowing into the lake. The Invincible Quartz Mining Co. set up in 1879 supported a significant community up the Rees Valley.

It is always disheartening to read of wholesale tree felling and yet it is understandable given the need for fuel in the days before more modern sources. Sawmilling was well established in the 1860’s and in 1863 the steamer Wakatipu was built of local timber on Pigeon Island, one of the two fairly significant islands in the northern end of the lake. Mines and bridges throughout Otago and Southland provided a strong demand for timber until freight prices on the steamer became too high. The opening of the Invincible Mine in 1883 required huge quantities of timber.

Learning about the scheelite mining was a revelation; I had never heard of this. This was unique to Glenorchy. An ore of tungsten, it was used for hardening steel. The industry underwent a regular boom and bust cycle as the world periodically went to war. After the Korean War prices plunged for a final time and all but a few small claims were abandoned. The Scheelite Battery above the Buckleburn is being restored by the Battery Association.

Tourism was of course to be the saving grace of Glenorchy and for now there seems no end in sight. The first tourists began appearing in the 1860s and in 1870 Richard Bryant opened an accommodation house / bar at Kinloch, which is more or less directly opposite Glenorchy across the lake and guides and transport for visitors were provided. The centre of tourist activities shifted in the 1900’s to Paradise and Arcadia up the Rees Valley. The 14 mile trip from Glenorchy was by buggy and dray.

Until the SS Earnslaw started a daily service in 1912, visitors to the head of the lake had to spend two days in either Kinloch or Glenlorchy. Transport of stock and wool was equally dependant to Kingston. And it was interesting to hear Chris reminisce about his exit from the Routeburn; by tractor and dray from there through to Kinloch from where he caught the SS Earnslaw back to Queenston and that was as late as about 1974.

When Glenorchy and Queenstown were finally linked by road in 1962, it ended the dependence of lake head communities on Wakatipu steamers for their contact with the outside world. It wasn’t until the completion of the Dart River road bridge in 1974, that Kinloch and Routeburn Station had all-weather road access.

We sat inside our cosy little home on wheels and watched all the activity about us and read the day’s Otago Daily Times, reading yet again about the disgusting and dangerous antics of the university students in this, their Orientation Week. Based on the reports, one would wonder why any parent allows their progeny to attend such a place!

After lunch, the day began to clear and we decided it was time to set off yet again toward our destination. Contrary to our map, which must be getting on in years as we all are, the road beyond Glenorchy is sealed, or at least as far as the crossroads immediately after crossing the Dart River, where the road to the Routeburn Track heads north. Less than ten kilometres up this road we came upon the sign for this camp, and came in through the long drive under lovely beech trees to find this camp, even lovelier than when we were here last. 

We checked out the newly constructed toilets and the swing bridge over the Routeburn River, watched the screeching kakas fly across the valley, then retreated from the sand-flies and did a dozen little housekeeping and repair chores; I added hooks and slides to the cab curtains, shortened the privacy curtain which divides the living area in two, sorted out Chris’s books that had disappeared off one off the iPads and grated a heap of Parmesan in anticipation of our Spaghetti Bolognaise.

Currently there are only six parties in tonight, but it is not yet 5 pm; just in time to join Chris to watch the nightly TV quiz shows.

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