3 February 2015 - Molyneux Park, Alexandra, Central Otago

We woke after an excellent night’s sleep and altogether delighted with this Park Over Property here at Alexandra. We stayed here many years ago, and then it was available to all self-contained motorhomes; now it is available to only members of the NZMCA and for now at no cost. It is quite close to the centre of town and to the Rail Trail, just a short ride or walk beyond the aquatic centre and netball courts.  From here one can see back to the barren hills above the town, on which the 11 metre clock sits. While accuracy is a little lacking, there is something rather special about glancing up into the hills over breakfast and seeing the time passing by amongst the landscape.

We headed into town and walked from one plumbing supply centre to another, given an assortment of advice about our shower rose, none which solved the problem but all that seemed to offer reasonable explanations. 

From the streets of Alexandra we were treated to wind and cold, but also to the glorious sight of a rainbow squashed into a valley high in the mountain range; perhaps I should say a prism of colour rather than rainbow. I did try to capture it all on camera, but alas am far too much of an amateur.

We picked up bread and wine and a few other less important essentials, then headed back to Molyneux Park for lunch, swinging by Wastebusters, the most amazing retail outlet for recycled rubbish located at the rubbish transfer centre. We had been directed there after inquiring after retired bicycles at a couple of cycle hire places. At Wastebusters we did find many bits and pieces of bikes but none whole enough for laymen to assemble and use on cycle trails. We must resign ourselves to being without transport to enjoy this leisure pursuit.   

By the time we had finished lunch, the sun was out, the wind had dropped and the day looked altogether more promising. Chris suggested that we stay another night and take the opportunity to walk part of the rail trail. So we set off on foot for six kilometres or so westward toward Clyde, until we reached the bridge at “Muttontown” the location of the first mining camp in the area during the gold rush of September 1862. It was here that the local sheep station owner slaughtered sheep to supply mutton to the hungry miners. Now there seems to be little left but the viaduct, a fruit laden plum tree and a dry gully well populated with dozens of rabbits.

The 110 metre long viaduct was constructed I 907, long after the gold rush. The trestle style bridge has the distinction of having eighteen spans, the most of any bridge along the Otago Rail Trail. It is also one of the few bridges on the former Otago Central Branch line that does not have stone abutments.

Fortunately we had an empty plastic bag in the bag pack and I scrambled down the bank to access the heavily laden branches, despite Chris’s protestations that the fruit may not be plums, or edible at all. As always, I picked one and assured him they were delicious and that I had not been struck down. And so we picked about half a kilo, and brought most back with us, at least those that hadn’t been checked out for sweetness.

The trail is one we had cycled some time ago, and took us past a pine plantation, the golf course, a vineyard, an assortment of lifestyle bocks and the very modest Alexandra racecourse. We met about four cyclists on our outward journey and the same on the return. As we walked we stripped off our excess layers of clothes added during the chilly morning and wished we had brought water with us.

Alas when we arrived back at the motorhome, delayed further by falling into conversation with fellow campers Jim and Kathy, we found the second cricket match between Pakistan and New Zealand was not being broadcasted on any station available here in Alexandra. 

Interestingly we did receive a call from UCC with questions about our beloved Winnebago, no longer our own of course, and we took the opportunity to mention a couple of minor matters relating to our new motorhome, not least the shower rose. “Try doing such and such”, Ross said and when we did, we found it was our ignorance rather than a fault.

We had also emailed Dometic about a light for our oven, and finally after much too-ing and fro-ing, have received word that they have sourced a bulb in a transit damaged oven, which they will send to us free of charge. We have asked that they post it to us care of the post office in Te Anau where we expect to be by the end of the week.

So after all that, Chris made an excellent salad, I cooked a bacon and tomato pasta, and we cracked a bottle of red. It had been a good day after all.