31 January 2017 - Elaine Bay Reserve , Marlborough Sounds

Despite the fact there was raucous happiness immediately outside our van last night, I fell asleep immediately on retiring and the night passed without event. In fact I would have to say that the one hundred or more campers surrounding us, all about forty years younger than us, behaved very well and apart from the odd soft drink can about this morning and the sight of one urinating behind the builders’ storage container, they really could not be faulted. Congratulations Nelson City Council for being proactive and at least containing this otherwise free-spirited group of travellers in one spot. The port-a-loos had been serviced by the time Chris wandered over to check them out, which was just as well, because they had been at flood level the night before. And as regards the freedom pee-er, we sternly told him off, and when he said “sorry” in his thick foreign accent, we expressed our doubt that he was sorry but told him that the behaviour was unacceptable. I suspect he made some derogatory remark to his fellows about those fuddy-duddy motorhomers!

Morning coffee at Cable Bay

We wandered over to the nearby Countdown supermarket for a few provisions, topped up our water using a jerry can, refilled with gas, dumped, and headed north on the road toward Picton and Blenheim. Just before reaching Hira, we turned north and drove to Cable Bay, the spot where the first telegraphic cables from Australia were brought ashore in 1876. Offshore lies Pepin Island with its high peak of Stuart Hill reaching 401 metres ASL, a geographic feature that looks rather odd in its surroundings. On the eastern side is the sand bank Maori Pa beach which seems to enclose one side of the estuary, and on the other was the causeway on which we parked which also seems to act as a barrier to the sea. In realty there is no such barrier; the rise in the tide during the time we were there, just long enough to have our morning coffee, belied the fact that this was an entirely enclosed body of water. 

Retracing our route we were soon back out on the main highway, which winds its way up over the Bryant Range crossing the Whangamoa Saddle then later the Rai Saddle before coming down into the Rai Valley. There we stopped beside the river for lunch and with cellphone access once more, returned a couple of missed calls. We suspected it might be the last time we would have such access for a while, however we found later we were quite wrong. There are pockets of internet through the Sounds after all.

Here we headed north once more, climbing up over the Rongo Saddle, somewhere near the mountain of the same name that stands 801 metres high. The road, while sealed, is windy and steep and does nothing for car sickness, although these days that tends to manifest itself with yawns rather than the more vulgar option. We then dropped down steeply into lovely Okiwi Bay, a little armpit in the narrow inlets that harbour these sheltered spots. A lively discussion about the definition of “sounds” versus “fiords” arose and we allowed google to mediate between us:

In geography, a sound is a large sea or ocean inlet larger than a bay, deeper than a bight, and wider than a fjord…… a  sound is often formed by the sea's flooding a river valley. This produces a long inlet where the sloping valley hillsides descend to sea-level and continue beneath the water to form a sloping sea floor. The Marlborough Sounds in New Zealand are a good example of this type of formation.

So there you have it. 

The wharf below our camp at Elaine Bay

We continued on up and over another range, the Croiselles Harbour below us to the west and Mt McLean at 725 metres ASL to the east. Soon we descended into lovely Elaine Bay on our right, this which opens out into the Tennyson Inlet. Our DOC booklet advised us that the camp was at the end of the road we turned into, however we discovered instead this little reserve above the wharf, which will serve us well. Perhaps this is the official camp, perhaps not; either way we are settled up for the night, the wind buffeting us and alongside, two little whizz-bang vans and a car, the latter with tenting folk nearer our age than the young people sitting in the ground eating either a very late lunch or a very early dinner. In fact I suspect these folk eat only twice a day and the meals are best left unnamed.

30 January 2017 - Rutherford Park, Nelson

There was much more to the music festival and rally than we took part; the morning teas, the lunches and dinners catered by the locals, the mass Happy Hours, the raffles and competitions, to name but a few, however we are not really rally types and limited our activities to our own preferences. 

Sun seeking audience

Yesterday morning we set off on a walk which would hopefully give us a bird’s eye view of the school and surrounds, from where we ourselves could see the extent of this giant temporary camping ground. We had hoped to learn the number of vans that did turn up; Chris guessed at 747 but I suspect that even that would have been short of the mark. But even assuming there were only 700 vans in, that’s 1400 folk. We were a force to be reckoned with, albeit belonging mostly to the Middle and Third Age.

The walk through the Shedwood Bush certainly gave us opportunity to get the blood circulating after having spent so much time sitting and listening, but we did not challenge ourselves to the extra climb to the top of the ridge, hence the photos I scored of the crowds were taken by another.

Views down toward Tapawera

During the afternoon we were entertained by a very talented couple on a violin and classical guitar, but unfortunately for the greater part of the session the sound system was playing up and it was no more than a background melody, such as you might have in a corner at a wedding, or even background in a shopping mall, a pity really because they really were so much better than that.

Then after dinner we went back across to the stage area and were brilliantly entertained by a group called The Great Pretenders who did pretend very professionally to sing and entertain like so many of the greats that have preceded them. We loved them and thought them superior to the previous evening’s more famous singers. Chris left me part way through their routine, preferring to watch every moment of the final tennis match between Federer and Nadal, but I braved the cooling evening temperatures and groped my way back across the paddocks much later, in time to catch the second set.

So we left Tapawera this morning very glad to have elected to attend the annual Music in the Mountains festival, and would be glad to come again should our time in the South Island coincide. We travelled back over the Spooner Saddle and down toward Tasman Bay yet again,  refuelling at Hope, dumping and filling with water at Richmond, then lunched at Tahunanui. We decided to check out this car park, today being nelson’s Anniversary Day and the greater number of the workers on holiday. There were still the dozens upon dozens of whizzbang vanners lined up and littering the area with their diversity and colour. We decided that joining them would be no worse than the DOC camp up at Canaan Downs, so here we are surrounded by this eclectic collection of travellers. All a bit of a change from our fellow campers of the last two nights!

We did walk up across the city earlier in the day to visit the Suter Art Gallery and were very impressed. Initially we wondered if we were in the same place, because there have been massive changes since we were there ten years ago. The building has been completely revamped, still incorporating the original structure. Among the many artworks upon the walls are several Colin McCahon’s, whose work we both abhor, several Toss Williston’s, work by Hodgkinson, Rita Angus and Benseman and others that did please. We were so glad we had made the effort.

We also called at the Information Centre and gathered together maps for our next little adventure. Tomorrow we will head away again once we have managed to have the gas bottle refilled.

A glimpse of our overnight city camp

29 January 2017 - Tapawera Area School, Tasman District

The Expressoship

Another front came over the South Island overnight; the edge of the West Coast’s bad weather drifted across Golden Bay during the morning. The sea was quite rough, the waves crashing onto the shore audible from our motorhome. We watched as a small yacht headed out through the entrance of the boat harbour, only to turn and run for shelter; obviously a weather-wary captain on board. Later when we walked around to the wharf where the fishing boats were tied up, we chatted with a commercial fisherman who remarked on the state of the weather. He had not been out for a while however explained that the larger service boats we had seen in operation the previous evening and earlier this morning were those attending to the mussel farms around the corner. When I expressed surprise that there were such operations in Golden Bay, assuming that these were restricted to the Marlborough Sounds, he soon put me right. Golden Bay’s operations are outstripping the efforts to the north east.

Rather worn sailing ship

On this same wharf we found an old Bermuda rigged sloop which on close scrutiny was in very poor condition. Three old salts sat up in the bow area righting the world, unconcerned about the state of the vessel. Close by was another small ship, once part of Jacque Cousteau’s fleet if the signage was to be believed. The Expressoship is very tired looking indeed but has gained headlines in the past; in 2014 the owner was reportedly feeding stingrays. The vessel and the business are now for sale and the owner, if it was he who poked his head above board, looks as if he has had enough of waiting for tourists to swing by. 

Late morning we headed north up the eastern side of the bay, passing through Ligar Bay, Tata Beach and onto Wainui Bay. This is the road through to Totaranui, the very popular DOC camp at the end of the Abel Tasman Track unless you want to continue right around to Wainui. The seal ends here and we had already decided we would leave a second visit to Totaranui for later in the summer, next year perhaps. But we were lured by the sign to the Wainui Falls and turned up a narrow drive to go explore. The parking area was already packed full, we had trouble turning and then gave this a miss too, deciding we would put it in our memory banks for next time.

So we headed back toward Takaka, stopping at Pohaka for the day’s newspaper, then searched for a spot to have lunch. Pohara Beach proved too hard, again too many people already parked in the car parks, however we found a peaceful spot beside an inlet on the seaside of Clifton.

Once fed we headed for our next to-do, a walk about the Grove Scenic Reserve. We had done this before and had fond memories of this charming little spot which our guide book describes as “a mystical place in grey-green that could have been transplanted straight from the Lord of the Rings novels or Arthurian legend, where massive rata trees sprout from deformed limestone outcrops.” I could not argue that description but I could complain about the pathetic little car park space which does not allow for anything larger than a small car, and these were all taken anyway. The touring crowds were conspiring against us!

Swimming holes at Payne's Ford

We set the Tomtom for Motueka and headed back toward the highway via rural back roads, emerging close to our next walking destination; Payne’s Ford. The big draw card here are the cliffs for climbing and abseiling, and the swimming holes in the river, none of which we actually planned to do. But it is a lovely little spot to wander along and watch others taking part in these activities. Again parking proved a problem but we did find an acceptable spot up on the main road. Whilst there we encountered a couple with their one year old baby who are biking about the country. We had noted the amazing bike at Mapua, a large assembly with a baby seat and luggage loaded up. The bike was a more solid machine than one normally finds and we had stood and admired it for some time then. Today we spent longer chatting with this couple who had just cycled over Takaka Hill, a feat we found gobsmacking particularly as they had a baby strapped into the contraption. They are from Oxford, England and have another month to go of their time in New Zealand. Hopefully they have managed to avoid the worst of the weather we have endured. Hopefully they will stay safe on these mad roads!

We continued on, crossing over the Takaka Hill ourselves and came down to our now tried and true campsite beside the Riwaka River, arriving earlier than we normally settle in but with time to wash out a jersey and give the van a pit of a lick and a polish with water fetched from the river. By now the weather had cleared and we were once more enjoying sunshine and warmth.

Yesterday morning we were away promptly and dealt with all our chores in Motueka: dumping, refuelling, filling with water, grocery shopping and a haircut for Chris. Alas my own grooming needs must wait until I return to Whangarei where I have appointments already lined up and must in the meantime remain unkempt.

The drive up through the Motueka Valley, a distance of less than 50 kilometres was as delightful as ever, the river glistening in the bright sunshine, and the extensive crops of hops intriguing. There were farms advertising goats cheese and goats milk, others offering crafts. Old abandoned oust houses dotted the landscape adding to the charm.  The valley is an extension of the alternative people who populate this part of the country.

As we came through the village, we were astounded at the crowds of people, obviously motorhomers walking about, hopefully filling the pockets of the locals with their out-of-town dollars. Greater was the surprise of the school grounds and neighbouring paddocks just chocker with motorhomes, all neatly lined up with the regulation here metres spaces in between. We were directed to our place at the far end of a paddock, having arrived late in comparison to most, but were soon surrounded by others, whose occupants we met later over our own little Happy Hour.

During the early afternoon we sat with our fellow club members, the lucky ones in the shade of the numerous pagodas set up and others out in the hot sunshine, entertained by an assortment of “walk-up” singers, members who wished to share their talent. Some were excellent, some not so good, but all had to be given credit for guts.

After dinner we all congregated once more in front of the stage with our own deckchairs to be entertained by the once great Frankie Stevens (brother of John Rowles and eight other siblings). Frankie has made appearances back down in New Zealand over the past couple of decades appearing on shows like New Zealand’s Got Talent as judge, but most of his career has been spent overseas among the rich and famous. Like so many aging singers, there comes a time when they should retire gracefully and leave us with brilliant memories, rather than the sadness that they are no longer at their best. But no one could take his professionalism away, and it was all credit to the organisers of the event “Music in the Mountains” that he was here at all. He shared the stage with his daughter and another woman, who together make up the Diamond Divas, and they certainly were en forme. In fact we enjoyed their part of the show more than Frankie’s own headline act. But we did not wait until the end; the night was turning cold and the Williams sisters were already to start their epic final in Melbourne. Sport waits for no man (or woman).

26 January 2017 - NZMCA Port Tarakohe, Golden Bay

Canaan Downs this morning

It was only 7 degrees inside when I was woken by car doors slamming as budget campers crawled out of their accommodation toward the dubious toilets and the water tap. We had done a rough count last night and decided there were about thirty vans or cars in. It’s a long way in to Harwoods Hole to find that there are already ten tents set up before you.

It was about 8.20am when we left the camp, hoping to pre-empt those coming into Canaan Downs, however we had barely left the reserve when we encountered three camper vehicles, all small, making their way in. I suspect they had been warned about the road and thought they would try to get in before the overnighters made their way out. Fortunately this was the only traffic, and we had an otherwise uneventful trip out to the main road on the 11 kilometres of gravel. It is worth mentioning here the prevalence of gravel roads here in New Zealand; recently a fellow traveller told us that 38% of New Zealand’s roads were still gravel. A current car advertisement on the television states one third of New Zealand’s roads were gravel, so even if the truth lies somewhere between, that is a lot of gravel to travel.

Road hazard in the Takaka Valley

The road down the western escarpment of Takaka Hill is very steep with switchbacks and hairpin bends, but the surface is excellent, sealed of course and the road wide. It was a slow descent; there were plenty of spots for us to pull to the side to let traffic through. It was not until we were nearly at Upper Takaka that we came upon a flock of sheep being driven down the road, accompanied by three shepherds each with his own pack of working dogs. Alas we got stuck behind a ute whose driver had no idea how to navigate a flock of sheep on the road and we remained behind the whole caboodle until they were turned into yards some distance along the road. 

The lovely Pupu Springs

Arriving at Takaka, we dumped, filled with water and bought the newspaper and fresh bread at the excellent Fresh Choice supermarket, then headed further west to visit the Pupu Springs, or more correctly, the Waikoropupu Springs. Again this was a repeat visit; however the intervening decade had brought upgrades to the entrance information area and a longer one kilometre walkway to showcase the pristine waters of the rivers and springs through lovely native bush.

Part of the walking track follows the line of the old water race that delivered water from a dam at Fish Gully to gold workings near the Main Spring, back in the late 1850s. It is hard to imagine such mining industry here in this beautiful spot, but then it also goes to show that nature is capable of healing man’s mess so well. Today there would be no hope in hell of obtaining resource consent for such activity here.

Dancing Sands below the surface

Following the brief gold mining stint here, the land around the springs was claimed by the Crown, then sold into private ownership for farming, later changing hands several times until it was sold in 1912 to the Takaka Sluicing Company’s manager, Charles Campbell. His daughter, Hilda, subsequently inherited the land and recognising the international importance of the springs, sold nine acres back to the Crown on condition that the springs were preserved and managed for the New Zealand public.

Sometime in the early 1900s a viewing platform was built, setting an elevated style of looking down into the main spring that remained until 1984. In that year a lower jetty-style platform was built with a periscopic box to assist underwater viewing. That was still in place when we last visited. The box was considered intrusive and finally removed in 2012. Today one has to be satisfied by standing on narrow platforms along the edge of one side of the spring, but even from here there are lovely views into and across the beautifully clear waters that spring up from the bowels of the earth.

Looking down toward Takaka from the Pupu Hydro walkway

Diving was a drawcard for many during the second half of the 1900s, divers coming from all over the world to experience the unique aquatic environment but since 2007, the waters of the reserve have been closed to the public. I do remember once seeing a film taken by divers of these springs; it was quite spectacular, but these days would be seen as having offended the sacredness of the spring.

Along with the greater cultural respectful changes has come the fixing of the name; previously the Pupu Springs Scenic Reserve, it was changed in 2010 to Te Waikoropupu Springs Scenic Reserve. I still think of them as the Pupu Springs.

Walking Campbell's Water Race

These springs are amongst the very clearest waters of the world, and the quality of the water has remained stable for the past twenty two years. In 1993 NIWA scientists found visibility to be 63 metres, not quite the 83 metres for distilled water. The only currently known freshwater to be optically pure is Blue Lake in the Nelson Lakes National Park, and even more superior, the ocean waters in the South Pacific Gyre near Easter Island.

Sometimes upgrades can spoil something that was already good; this time the powers that be have done a great job and we were certainly pleased we had bothered to revisit. I was delighted to actually see the dancing sands in the spring of that name; the white sands prance about with the pressure of the upflow.

We went on up the Pupu Valley road to the Pupu Hydro Walkway, boasting to be “one of the most beautiful walkways in New Zealand, a place where nature, history, community, energy and conservation exist.” The walkway is a one hour fifty minute circuit that passes through mature beech and rimu forest of the Kahurangi National Park, alongside a historic gold miners water-race, across aqueducts that were a masterpiece of engineering for their time, through areas of regenerating forest to the fully restored and operational Pupu Hydro Powerhouse, although we did that all in reverse just to be contrary.

The water race that diverts water from Campbell’s Creek is nearly two kilometres long and was re-commissioned in 1929 (from the gold mining days) to serve a power station built by the Golden Bay Electric Power Board. The penstock and power house was rebuilt in 1980 by the Pupu Hydro Society to generate electricity for the national grid.

I remembered the long ascent up Jim’s Track, although it was much more attractive than when we were last here. The forest has grown taller, and the viewpoints and attractions are well signposted. The water race was just as I remembered it although today it was bereft of high flowing water. This was soon explained when we came upon three men of senior years all working away with machinery and hand tools patching the race. These members of the Pupu Hydro Society were taking advantage of the few days the power station had closed down for remedial work. They were delightful men, happy to chat away and would have kept us entertained all day had we been willing to hang about. They did warn us that the zig-zag track which descends to the car park was not in good order but nothing could have prepared us for the dreadful state we found it. Water had been left to carve out its own way, exposing roots and leaving the walker to pick their way up the steep hill, allowing for no distraction. We were so very glad we had chosen to walk the track the wrong way; I would not have enjoyed walking up that wreck of a track.

Returning to the camper, we made our way back out to the highway, and headed back into Takaka. There we parked and walked about, absorbing the quaint character of the little township and the art and crafts on offer. It is a town to delight the hippy set, and it never ceases to surprise us how many hippies there are left in the world. On such a gorgeous summer day, the town bustled and bubbled, but we wondered about the slow days of the winter when the backpackers and whizzbang vanners had all gone home. We bought ice-creams and peered into shop windows and read the histories of the old buildings as we wandered along. Such a lovely day today; summer really has arrived at last.

View from our camp across Golden Bay

We decided to come on to Pohara and stay at the Boat Club where we had stayed all those years ago, and were absolutely delighted to find the NZMCA has actually got its own park over spot here. It is right beside the road, but then so is the road right beside the sea, and the little safe boat harbour. With such views all for $6, how can one complain about the boats being towed past?