24/1
The following morning was spectacular and only slightly marred by the sandflies. (According to legend, the goddess of the underworld introduced these to Fjordland to ensure that humans wouldn't linger there, seduced to idleness by the beauty of the landscape. It works!)
The scenery on Lake Wanaka was also amazing. We could see at least a mile down the lake, itself half a mile across. In the dark, we could not see a single light on those hills; the only illumination came from the stars and bright moon.
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In Wanaka township we bought some oysters. That night we found a wonderful free camp on the shores of Lake Wanaka, a little foreshore down a gravelled track. And ate a meal fit for queens. Pip prepared oysters a gratin with eggs and pepper, and here is just sitting down to enjoy them.
They were followed by splendid lamb steaks bought in Invercargill and perfect with just a little mustard.
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Little Fairlight had another unique experience. We had never been greeted by sheep that run ecstatically towards us, baaing loudly. But there they were, five of them in a small field behind the station.
It turned out that some of the staff in the gift shop in the station building regularly treated these sheep with sheep nuts and lettuce. The cry of 'lambies' confirmed their interest, but wasn't really needed. The generous Mags gave us a few sheep nuts. Their bristly lips, sharp pointed and so unlike the broad, flat face of a horse, picked them greedily off our hands, in a strict pecking order which left one elderly, thin lass at the back. We threw her some nuts, and she managed to snatch a few.
Bidding Fairlight a fond farewell, we sped through Kingston. Pip has fond memories of swimming there, in Lake Wanaka, when she was a child. But it was a cold day and we didn't bring the wetsuits.
We visited Arrowton, now a theme village to the gold rush. The shop fronts are all done up in a late 19th century style, to sell the latest in merino/possum wool, jade and paua carvings and lots of café latte. The museum, though, was excellent. It had some great displays about the history of the valleys, including the Maori presence before the Europeans arrived. There were lots of memories (diaries, possessions, oral histories retold) of the miners and farmers, from musical instruments to opium pipes.
Pip bought a gold pan; one step on the way to a long-laid plan to find her own alluvial gold in the rivers of Westland.
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Fairlight was never big, but thrived on the explosion of settlement that followed the gold rush hereabouts. Now, most of the township is an Edwardian homestead ('built in the Georgian style' by one of the original runholders), and a tiny station. The building itself was bought from Otautau when the station there was closed.
Here it is still well in use. This is the Kingston flyer, emerging majestically from the bush. She was on a special run for a 'third age' holiday; her decks were crowded by older blokes grinning fit to bust their jaws.
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You have to take the Highway both ways to Te Anau. West of the Homer Tunnel, the 20th century solution to the rigours of climbing the Southern Alps, the road is steep. On every side are walls of sheer rock, some even too steep for the limbing agility of ferns and rata. During the rain (which was still falling as if from a hose), these run with enormous waterfalls, hundreds of metres high. Every turn in the road is a shock and delight. (We're not sure this picture realy conveys it but it's the best we could do.)
Someone is widely quoted (but we can't remember who) as saying that it feels as if there is too much scenery for the available space. The mountains and the water are competing for room. And the grandeur and sheer generosity of this landscape is astonishing.
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22/01/2008, Still at Te Anau
The bell cry of the tui echoes everywhere we go. They are busy right now, feeding on the honey in the flax and other flowering plants. Pip was persistent in the woods at Te Anau and caught this one sipping. You can see the white collar feather that sticks out below the throats and the rich colour on the wings.
After that excitement, we made tracks north, our next destination the old gold mining town of Arrowton. On the way, we found a great space to free camp at Fairlight.
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22/01/2008, Te Anau
The tahake were believed extinct till a colony was found in 1948. Now they are very carefully managed, with small colonies now established on off shore islands. The wildlife refuge at Te Anau has had an important role in this resurgence. Amongst a few other injured birds, it has given a long term home to Alpine and Bruce, two birds now both over 20 years old.
As you can see, they're pretty used to cameras. This one wasn't leaving the food for anything. They are rather like the much more common (and very stupid) pukeka; the takahe is bigger and bulker, without the high step and kick to the legs that characterises the pukeka.
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22/1
On the other side from the snow bridge we followed a short nature walk looking at the alpine plants. Back at the car park, Puff had destructive company.
Kea are the only alpine parrots, and famous for their 'cheeky inquisitiveness' as the tourist literature has it. Vandalism, as the rest of the world knows it. They are heavily protected, and of course they're not supposed to be fed. When we opened the door to get the camera, this wrecker left the corner of the roof to investigate our potential. He knew the sound of an opening door all right.
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At the top of the road from Milford Sound south on to the Highway is the Homer Tunnel. It's a metre long, rough hewn out of the rock under the Homer Saddle. It took over 20 years to build, started by work crews in the Great Depression and finally opened in the 1950's. In heavy rain, as we were experiencing, water runs down the tunnel.
Outside, there's this shorter tunnel, worn by water in a patch of permanent (if very grubby) snow.
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On the way up the steep hill from Milford Sound, we stopped for a brief walk in the bush. This is 'the Chasm', a noted gorge where water rushes through the rock, shaping it as if it were soap. These are big logs, being thrown over the falls as if they were feathers.
The rain forest, in the downfall that was still throwing the water down from the heavens, was a delight. All the plants seemed greener and more alive, their thirst never satiated.
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Not that you need another picture of crashing water, but we can't resist it.
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Milford Sound is famous as home to the rare black coral, a soft form of the stuff that is more familiar in reefs. There is an underwater observatory, a pod suspended about nine metres below the surface on big chains, which has trays around it which have been heavily colonised.
This is a tree of black coral. The branches and trunk are the coral; all the white fronds are another, symbiotic weed.
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