Walker Creek, Fiordland

Welcome to Walker Creek, Fiordland.  My favourite place when I lived in Te Anau.

Technically, the last image isn't the creek, it was actually taken further into the national park, at Mirror Lakes but I added it because it gives you a sense of the same kind of mountains just beyond 'my' creek.

On arriving there, I would make a small seat for myself in the long grass while my dog, Sandie, made herself at home in the creek.  We could spend hours there, dreaming the day away.

When I returned, back in 2012, I was so intent on breathing in both the air and the scene that I didn't take any photographs of this creek.  These images all belong to the Belgian bloke who made a beautiful job of capturing those places I loved to well while I wandered off into dream-mode again.

I yearn for that particular air, the peace of the place and the overwhelming sense of Nature pressing down on me but ... I have also become accustomed to Italy, France and to being here in the centre of the world. 

I am divided in these days, unsure of which place is more for me.  Loving Genova, and loving the memories of home.  Perhaps it's best that I wander a bit longer.

A Beautiful Confusion ...

These days have been about a mix of good friends who have wandered through, coming from the UK and Italy, with New Zealand due at the weekend.  And into this mixture there is also what feels like the end of summer, a yearning for New Zealand, planning for Italy, laundry and dishes and vacuuming, and sometimes ... exploring my photography archives, wishing I had more time to just write too.

A beautiful confusion perhaps.

I feel like a cat, turning and turning and turning again, attempting to settle into my life, clear on a way forward. 

I found myself writing this blog post after searching to see if I had a photograph that captured Walkers Creek, a favourite creek in Fiordland National Park.  That creek my dog used to swim in while I sat on the grassy bank, with a beautiful mountain range directly in front of me. 

I think I wanted an image that confirmed my memories of that place.  It was about 60 kms into the park, back when I lived in Te Anau.  60kms ... like so many of my 'runaway' places.  Anakiwa when I lived on the airforce base back in Marlborough, the Arrow River when I was in Cromwell, and Pilots Beach when I lived out on the Otago Peninsula.

But there was another favourite place and I did photograph it last time I was home.  I was up  recording a New Zealand dawn chorus to bring back to Europe, staying at Hunter and Claire's place.  I was wrapped up in warm clothes, out on the veranda, voice recorder mounted on my camera's tripod when I suddenly saw all that was directly in front of me.

I love this view ... Manapouri, New Zealand.

Whispers From My World ...

Claire mailed me a link to a beautiful video clip from home, see below ...writing, 'hope you don't get too homesick!'  I did but I loved it so much that a little bit of homesick really doesn't matter.

Meanwhile I've had the pleasure of spending the last couple of days in the company of Lynette - one of the loveliest kiwi soul's I know.  We were up at 6.30am two mornings in a row, taking Miss 9 to school because Jess was fighting with the nastiest kind dental abscess pain and Lynette thought it would be fun to come wandering.  Remember we're mid-winter here in Belgium. 

Jessie's antibiotics have kicked in now and it's Saturday today.  A 9am wake-up was so welcome this morning.

And I'm rapt with the small pile of new shells here on my desk, fresh from one of the exquisite beaches in Nelson, NZ, sand still clinging to some.  I'm a shell and stone-gatherer.  My desk bears witness to this.  Included in her bag of New Zealand goodness Lynette also bought Miss 9 a Magpie soft toy, complete with the really special call of the New Zealand magpie.

It has a lovely few days of 'home' ... and I'm still listening to Fran Kora.  A most excellent way to begin a day.

The Waters of Greenstone from Nathan Kaso on Vimeo.

Hunter and Clare Shaw's Eco Retreat, Fiordland, New Zealand

On the first night of our roadtrip round New Zealand's South Island ... otherwise known as Di's Island, we were heading for Hunter and Clare Shaw's eco retreat in Manapouri, Fiordland.

I first met Hunter and Clare when I was living in Te Anau, back in 90's, and one of my favourite life stories is about their daughter Phoebe who came home from school and told her mum about the new girl's interesting mum.  The  'favourite' part of that story is the part where she told Clare that I reminded her of Lucy Lawless ... aka Xena Warrior Princess.  Who could resist...?

And that was the beginning of the friendship.  Later, after we moved to Dunedin, Hunter used to come up to work with clients in his Hellerworks massage practice and so he would stay, bringing venison fresh from the mountains or farm.  He taught me how to cook the most divine venison steaks.

Still later and they popped in and stayed a few days with us here in Antwerp and there was always an invitation to go stay with them when I finally got home.

And so we did.

I cannot recommend booking their eco retreat highly enough.  Gert and I were stunned when we were shown the light-filled, spacious cabin where we would be spending our 2 nights in Fiordland.

It's private, it's an exquisitespace, and it felt like home.  I'm highly qualified in the field of 'feels like home' as I've been searching for places that feel like home since forever.

But here is a taste of what they offer in their words: Lake Manapouri is just 3km away, the start of your Manapouri-Doubtful Sound experience and we are well placed for trips to Milford Sound and Fiordland National Park. There are many walking tracks nearby of varying degrees of difficulty, whatever your fitness level you will find something to suit and be able to experience hiking in Fiordland from the popular tracks to those that are used by few.

Your hosts are Hunter and Claire Shaw who both have a wealth of knowledge about the local area, its history, and the flora and fauna of the surrounding park, not to mention the numerous places to visit.

Hunter is a professional guide with interpretation being his specialty and has lived in the area for over 50 years. All Hunter’s working life has been involved in the National Park - in the early years with wild deer hunting and more recently leading trips through the World Heritage forests of Fiordland.

And friendly, so friendly.  Hunter is a story-teller, a man I spent a couple of days interviewing once upon a time.  He is a book.  I didn't write it but he talks about doing it himself one day.

So ... all this to say, if you are heading to New Zealand, or if you live there, and you are thinking about visiting Fiordland, consider staying at Hunter and Clare's cabin in the woods.   You won't regret it.

Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway or … how I earned my greenstone.

If there is one tunnel, in the entire world, that I fear … it's the Homer Tunnel down in Fiordland, New Zealand.

It's 1.2km (0.75 miles) long and takes just over 2 minutes to drive through. It's nothing like a European tunnel and really, I don't particularly like them either. Probably because I come from a country of earthquakes. 

Anyway … Gert and I were there in Fiordland and because most of our European Tunnel Experiences have been narrated with Stories By Di from THE Homer Tunnel. The Tunnel of all Tunnels. The one without escape exits built in throughout the tunnel. The one where one used to have to turn on the lights because there were no lights inside. The one where I had once been trapped for quite some time while two buses negotiated passing each other INSIDE said tunnel...but that's another story.

Tuesday 11 December I took Gert to almost all of my favourite places inside Fiordland National Park, dating back to that time in the 90's back when I lived in Te Anau, Fiordland. We visited Walkers Creek – the place where my beloved Labrador swam. We stopped in at McKays Creek and photographed the multitude of summer Lupins in flower there. 

We wandered on to the Mirror Lakes and tried for the promised mountains-reflected-in-the-lakes shot but there was a troublesome breeze. We drove on … stopped at Gunns Lake and were almost consumed by Sandflys (so much worse than Mosquitoes, for the curious).

And slowly I fell silent, as the inevitability of the promised Homer Tunnel Experience fell down upon my little kiwi shoulders. I really don't like that tunnel but I had to show him. 

We pulled up at the entrance. There are traffic lights there now. Traffic is only one-way. I appreciate that since The BusJam Experience with Diede back in 2001. However, a word of advice … never ever, under no circumstances, talk to a local while you wait for the green light to enter The Tunnel.

Always friendly, I asked, 'Anything I should know?'

She smiled and gave me the usual, 'Safe as houses' and 'So many use it everyday' stuff.

But then she continued with 'Lucky you didn't come through yesterday though … there was a slip on the other side'.

'Really???' squeaked I.

She saw my face and changed down a gear. 'If you didn't know about it, you would hardly know that it's there though …' 

I reminisced about my experience with Diede and the Big Old BusJam and she said, 'It's much better now … it's one-way and there are lights'.

I said, 'Excellent!'

She continued with, 'So no one could understand how that tourist crashed into the wall recently … I mean, the tunnel's so wide inside'.

I said, 'I'm not sure I'm the right person to tell this to … '

We both laughed. Gert was controlling a belly laugh … I'm almost sure of it.

Thankfully, before more could be shared, the neon sign lit up and said 'Prepare to go', or some other thing … and we left.

I shook.

Great rolling waves of fear rocked through my body as I led the way into the darkness that is The Homer Tunnel. Roadwork signs, inside the tunnel, stating 30kms p/h was the limit, DID NOTHING to calm my chicken-hearted little self but finally, we emerged into sunlight.

You know, I really understand when the mountaineers say that the summit is only halfway. There's still the getting down. We were through the tunnel however I knew, almost immediately, that we still had to tackle the return very-steep-gradient before this whole Homer Tunnel Experience was over.

The one bright spot on this adventure was The Chasm ... both the beautiful photographs we would take of said beautiful area and the Keas, who would do their beautiful Kea thing in The Chasm carpark. 

I boldly allowed the little red car to roll down the mountainside, downdowndown, knowing that I would be photographing those Keas soon however … wouldn't you know it. The Chasm … the longed-for or, at very least, looked-forward-to, Chasm WAS CLOSED.

I U-turned at the first opportunity, wanting to avoid Milford Sound's carpark, sandflys and expensiveness, and headed back up that damn mountain to the scary old Homer Tunnel.

Happily, I found myself at the head of the queue heading back into THE TUNNEL, as being behind a campervan wasn't my idea of a good time and … I set off when the green light said go.

Gert videoed the return trip.

He told me I didn't do the 30kms asked of me … he said I was a wee bit faster.

What can I say …

I got out of that tunnel, parked. Praised God and everyone else responsible for my safe return and wandered off to photograph the Keas loitering there at The Tunnel's entrance. 

I drove out of Fiordland Park, so full of the joy you feel when you live through something that could end badly, with Gert in complete agreement with my idea that The Homer Tunnel is one of the scariest tunnels we've ever ever driven through.

Hooray me.

Now … on to Hokitika to find the piece of jade that is mine because I am the bravest creature around at the moment.  Or that's my spin on the story.