Sharon’s Blog

Imogen and Karsten…this post is for you. Imogen, during week two of her bike trip, told Karsten that the two of us saw a possum in Fox. Karsten, of course, thought this was no big deal – because there are roadkill possums all over the place. You also occasionally see a carcass hanging on a fence. These things are considered pests. See the big debate about banning 1080, which they use to control their population here and here, almost as media consuming as the Rugby World Cup stadium site selection, but not quite. They do use possum wool in sweaters, scarves, and mittens – mixed with merino. Jenny tells me that it’s very, very warm – might pick up a pair before I go yet. Anyway – Imogen tried to convice Karsten that she saw one live, but he was thinking we had too much wine at that Cafe Plateau that night. While at the St. Clair winery later in the trip, we were looking at some pictures and Imogen knew I had snapped one of the possum after it ran up the tree and was asking me to show it to Karsten as proof. I couldn’t find it, but the glare from the sun made it a bit tough to find it when we were together. But Karsten…here you go. It’s a lousy picture and I’m sure I’ll get a protest comment from the possum, but it is proof. We did spot one live. No kiwis, for me, but future road kill, I’ve seen.

We did wake up on our drive long enough to hop out and look again at the raging Tasman Sea. This was at Bruce Bay. I think it turned out to be my last look at the ocean on the west side, at least at close range.

On the ride in, we were wondering whether the nightlife in Fox Glacier would rival that of Haast and whether or not we’d get on the glacier the next day. The weather was pretty bleak and we all knew the helicopters won’t fly up there in the clouds. Karsten had called ahead to get us on the list for the early AM flights – the best chance for clear weather, as the clouds tend to get worse over the course of the day. When we got to Fox, we stopped at the Alpine Guides place to confirm our reservations and get their perspective on the next days prospects. Basically everything had been cancelled that day and a lot of people were hanging about. Jenny took the time to tell us about the restuarant and bar scene. She said we should be able to find some more white-welli boys at the pub that evening. We were on our own for dinner that night, but we all decided we should dine together at Cafe Plateau at 7pm. Karsten made a reservation for us and then we headed around to our hotel…which was quite nice that evening.

So…who needs a horse, lasso, cowboy boots and a hat? A girl in bike clothes, a bright yellow rainjacket, with a big camera can do just fine. Clearly these guys (& girls) didn’t see much in the way of people. I walked across the street and they all started to move in towards this big, red bull with big, red bulging eyes. I was happy there was a fence between me and him. This one cow wanted to come closer, but he wouldn’t let anyone get out in front of him. The others in the car thought this whole clustering action was quite amusing – eventually almost all the cows had come in from this huge field and formed one giant clump staring at me. It was suggested the cows were blinded by the flourescent raincoat and could go no further…

Eventually the others caught up and the bicycles went up for the day and the ride into Fox Glacier from Bruce Bay. I think all of us got in a snooze on the way, except for Karsten, who was driving that day.

After lunch, most of us rode off, some decided to take a break for the day. I fell behind the main pack, but kept pedaling and enjoying the lovely, if wet, scenery. Funny – it was very wet, but it was never raining hard enough all day to keep you from riding. We were riding towards Bruce Bay, but weren’t going to get that far as it was getting late in the day. Karsten had the van pulled over, and was chatting with Jenny, but I just ignored them and kept riding. Karsten yelled to me that he’d pick me up in another 10 or 15 minutes. The other three still riding were way ahead of me. The scene had changed to farm country now – mostly cattle, with some sheep sprinkled in here and there. Still crossing lots of streams of varying sizes. Karsten found a spot to pull over and drag me off the road. We drove a little ways and passed the other riders, but there was nowhere to pull over until this cattle farm. There were lots of dogs barking at us as we got out of the car – scary one, but they were all tied up so we felt comfortable roaming around. Across the street was this pastoral cattle scene…notice how dispersed they are.

Before we left Lake Paringa though, curiousity got the better of me. When I first arrived and Karsten was still prepping lunch, I took my photo tour. Coming out of the woods onto a campsite, I came across this strange green stalk growing out of the ground. It was about 7-8 feet tall and awfully close to the base of a tree, but it was so different I assumed it was some other plant. Helen and Jenny were the plant experts, so I dragged them over for a look. Dave came along too. He’s more observant than I am – must be all those years working on the electron microscope at the University – and actually looked around a little and up. The same type of stalk I saw growing from the ground was actually sprouting from the branch of the tree, which was really practically dead. It reminded me of the chapter on trees and their root systems from the Murchie book I was reading early this summer – kind of like Energizer bunnies, they keep on going, and going, and going – oh, I mean growing. Dave thought it was so interesting, he grabbed the other botanical enthusiast on the trip, Catherine, over for a look too.

Right next to that tree was something almost as interesting. A big kahikatea with a parasite tree braided around it. Jenny pointed that out to us, saying it was fairly common and sometimes the braid tree would actually strangle the tree it was trying to live off of. It’s tough out there in the plant world – everyone for himself. People may actually be much nicer…

Pulled into Lake Paringa for lunch. Karsten was making another one of his wonderful salads at the picnic table. Lots of sandflies were about, so it was time for more bug spray. Actually, we ate lunch in the van – where they had snuck in, but there was a limited supply. It was very misty around the hills. There were some campers and fishermen there – apparently the lake is good for salmon and brown trout. And if you’re into eels, don’t come without your commercial fishing license, according to the sign. Despite all the rain, the water level was relatively low. You could tell it got higher though – some spots I was standing on were decidely soggy to point that you knew it was often covered with water. Jenny confirmed that later on, showing just how far the water came out. And there was a sign saying no camping past a certain point because the water levels can rise so quickly. We needed to eat before the van floated away…

The water never stops flowing in this country. Along this 20Kish stretch of riding we passed came across two sizable lakes (not Tahoe scale though), tons of little waterfalls, and streams of all sorts of varying sizes, requiring little bridges. All of the bridges are numbered and there’s a little sign naming the creek…we passed creeks named after the NZ birds (Kiwi, Kea, etc.), Mi Mi Creek, and my favorite of all – after many, many creeks, Random Creek. Riding along, there was the road (to the wrong side of me) and moss covered ridges to the other – waterfalls just dripped over them. There seemed to be another one springing forth every few yards. Passed lots of dead possums, but there will be no road kill photos on this blog, Britta – sorry. Just like the water, the green didn’t seem to be without end either. More and more fern trees and the beautiful kahikateas.

Our next stop was Knights Point for morning tea. My British friends said, “It’s morning coffee, and afternoon tea,” but Karsten was in charge, so it was morning tea. Pretty chilly and damp again so I was happy for whatever hot drink was being poured. We always had some sort of fruit bread (not quite fruitcake, thank heavens) and these oatmeal/coconut/raisin cookies. There were literally busloads of tourists here and another bike trip stopped there too – but they thought it was lunchtime. There were kayaks on their van – it must have been one of those multisport things.

Knights Point reminded me of Slea Head, of the Dingle Peninsula, in Ireland – only I couldn’t get close enough to be sure. Apparently seals hang out on the beach down there and there were some rocks that looked like they were moving. Malcolm had binoculars and Imogen confirmed that they were indeed seals, but again – really too far away to get too excited about. We were hoping to catch some penguins and white herons that day, but the wildlife were mostly staying indoors because of the weather. We, on the other hand, wanted to ride – so despite the drizzle, it was time to head down the hill.

Karsten assured me this one wasn’t as steep as coming down the Haast Pass and that I wouldn’t find any runaway truck ramps, so I braved it. It wasn’t too bad – just a bit twisty and turny. Then it was a nice rolling ride past Lake Moeraki and on to Lake Paringa for lunch.

It was a nice ride, if a bit damp and chlly to Ship Creek. First we crossed the longest single lane bridge (over the Haast River, I think) in New Zealand. Met up with a tour bus halfway across. He had stopped for us at one of the passing bays, but started driving forward before I could get into it! Was a bit nerve wracking, but I’m still here writing, so he obviously didn’t run me down. The ride from there the coastal plain – fern trees, flax, ferns, the occasional creek and lagoon, etc. Lots and lots of green. Every now and then we’d catch a brief glimpse of the ocean. We passed a fairly large lagoon on the left and approached Ship Creek. Everone hopped off their bikes for another little hike to the viewing platform. Jenny led the group out. As usual, I was in the rear taking pictures and Karsten was right ahead of me. He called everyone back at one point, where we met a fork in the trail. After leading everyone a ways down that path, he realized it was headed to the dune lake, and not the coastal viewpoint, so he, with great humor, admitted his error and turned everyone around. When we climbed the steps up through the ferns to the deck, we could finally get our first real look at the extensive beach and wild, grey, and violent Tasman sea pounding. You could still see the mountains there in the background, shrouded in clouds. The waves just pounded and pounded the coast – I suppose during a hurricane it’s worse than this, but this was about the roughest sea I’d ever seen.

Sorry these posts are out of order. I know I’m violating some cardinal rule of blogging, but the timestamps are from the photos and I actually took this one at the beginning of the walk. Oh well….

After taking a few group shots at the viewpoint, we walked back on the beach. It was all stones…looked like a Power Point background I’d seen somewhere before. There was lots of stuff that the sea had coughed up, including some huge driftwood trees. Gnarled wood was everywhere. There was some kelp pieces on the stones, an occasional leaf and clamshell too. When the beach started climbing again though, it was lined with all the green stuff. Where it did actually get sandy (and it was very coarse sand), there were Tane’s Eyebrows, or a golden red sand sedge called pingao. It’s pretty short, but serves as susbstitute for the sea oats the princess’ great grandfather planted on the Outer holding the sand in place and making space for other plants. The Maori weaved it into hats, mats, etc., but now it’s endangered and protected. It’s quite beautiful…it’s the reddish clumps of grass in the pictures. The legend is that Tane, god of the forest, had a dispute with Tangaroa, god of the sea. Tane, plucked out his eyebrows and threw them into the sea as an offering to Tangaroa. But Tangaroa, like a Cubs fan in the bleachers whose caught a St. Louis home run, threw them back and they landed on the beach – where they took root and have served as a border between beach and forest ever since.