17 December 2016 - NZMCA Park, Waimate, South Canterbury

In the past three days we have regained our health although hay fever still plagues us but that is simply a fact of summer life. The motorhome has had a service, the repair or replacement of the hatch door thereon has been deferred for an indefinite time and we have again moved further south.

We have passed through the relatively flat pastoral and croplands of Canterbury, most graced with massive sleeping irrigation wand machines. Haylage bales line up alongside fence lines wrapped in their plastic coats of green, blue or mauve polythene, waiting for their consumption to occur either late in a summer drought or in the slow growing winter. Barley crops continue to push up toward the heavens until the harvesters arrive. The days have been clear and sunny although a cool breeze has deterred me from stripping off too many layers.

Yesterday we crossed the wide braided rivers which divide this region into arable strips; the Selwyn River , the Raikaia,and  the Hakatere, stopping for lunch at Rakaia.  We turned off the main highway into the little settlement, generally not seen by the traveller and were pleasantly surprised by its size. While there is little evidence these days of commercial enterprise, there are signs of historical activity; it was from here my great great great grandfather Charles Lake ran his cartage business in the late 1860s, battling the river in its natural state before the longest bridge in New Zealand was finished.

We lunched at the Domain, having missed the turnoff down to the conservation area by the river, however this turned out to be far more pleasant than the dusty gravel tracks along the river bank.

Detouring again into Chertsey where my great grandmother (granddaughter of Charles and Louisa) was born, we found little to mark the spot which once had been significant to those early settlers.

On down the main coastal highway, we finally pulled into the NZMCA park over property adjacent to the long abandoned school at Ealing just north of the Rangitata River. There we enjoyed the chatter of the many small birds in the park’s trees interspersed with the occasional train passing and trucks and machinery attending to the needs of the farmers in the area. There were just three other parties set up overnight.

"The Face of Peace" at Caroline Bay

This morning we continued on south, across the Rangitata River and on down to Temuka where we shopped at the substantial supermarket. We drove through the main street, quiet here on a Saturday morning, looking for an old warehouse-style building we had found nearly a decade ago. Then there had been a group of artists working and exhibiting their skills; they have obviously gone on to bigger and better places. Temuka pottery was a must have in the first years of my domestic independence; we cherished the odd piece we managed to save up and buy. These days that vintage pottery is more likely to be found sitting on the shelves of a charity shop.

On we went until we arrived at Timaru; we pulled into Caroline Bay. The town itself, population 44,000, sits up on the hills above the port and bay and was busy with Christmas shoppers when we walked up and down the main street in the early afternoon, however it was the recreational area down in the bay which most pleased us. Here is to be found a lovely rose garden, a large and well patronised skate park, boardwalks leading down to the dunes, a large playground area, expansive green areas for picnics and play and a sound shell. Here at the latter we discovered singers rehearsing for this evening’s entertainment, Christmas on the Bay; a boy of maybe eleven years with the purist soprano register, a threesome of energetic and very talented middle aged women and a mixed choir. These amateurs are to be joined by several professional musicians tonight and I am sure it will be a brilliant entertainment. We did contemplate for a brief moment or two, staying on and attending, however dense cloud was creeping across from the mountain chain that had followed our route all the way from Christchurch, the wind was cold and I decided that there was little point in exposing ourselves to inclement conditions and risk catching cold or worse. 

So we came on yet again, heading a little inland after 40 kilometres of hugging the coastline, the white horses of the Pacific Ocean visible much of the time. Then we turned inland a little, soon arriving at Waimate which, like all these other places passed through or stopped in over the past week or so, we have visited before. The town sits nestled at the foot of the Hunter Hills, and high above is the White Horse monument, a silhouette commemorating the Clydesdale horses that helped break in the land of pioneering days. A sign at the entrance states that the population is a little over 3,000 and the main street reflects the commercial needs of such a modest number.

We found our way through to our park over spot and were duly delighted with the neat layout, size and of course with the wee building which houses the books for swap, the visitors register, a few travel brochures and a table and chairs to accommodate those who wish to meet for happy hour, all unlike that at Ealing yesterday where the “facilities” are accommodated in a small old discarded fridge. No one was about despite the half dozen or so rigs in; we decided that they must have all gone to Waimate’s own version of “Christmas in the Bay”. In Timaru we had learned that the professionals of their music fest were to be busy entertaining in this neck of the woods before heading north for a repeat performance later in the day.

Since dinner and the arrival of our fellow campers, light drizzle has set in; we are hoping good weather arrives tomorrow as forecasted.