Seeing 'Home' in a New Way

I've come back to New Zealand, after 8 years away, clear on some of the things I need to see, do, and taste however there are other things ... things that have startled me as they have turned my head, again and again and again.

I've fallen for fern fronds in a fairly major way.  The hotel manager here in Fox Glacier just discovered me out in the front garden and introduced me to the hotel's private garden. 

It was grand out there ...

No Rain on New Zealand's Infamously Wet West Coast Today ...

I have traveled the west coast of the South Island a few times and only once have I experienced sunshine.  Sunshine that changed everything ... I didn't recognise the chocolate-box-pretty coastline that was revealed by the sun.  It was shock and awe on a grand scale.

It happened again today.  We set off in the little red car, leaving from Wanaka about 10.  We drove west ... climbing hills, turning 35km per hour corners, sometimes constantly negotiating those tight corners, admired so many lakes and rivers.  Then finally we reached The Gates of the Haast and wandered on out to the West Coast ... where the actual coast was waiting.  Naked in the sun.  No clouds.  No torrential rain.  No sandflies. 

Just. Extreme. Beauty.  Today there was more than 250kms of it.

Below is a small taste.  We forgot to take notes on the 'where' of the photographs ... just to give you a small idea of how mindblown we were.  I think this might be Maori Bay, as per our road atlas but anyway ... a beautiful beach, someplace on the West Coast of New Zealand.

The Cabbage Tree ... (Cordyline australis)

Cabbage trees have lovely scented flowers in early summer, which turn into bluish-white berries that birds love to eat. Growing to heights of 12 to 20 metres, cabbage trees have long narrow leaves that may be up to a metre long.

The view from the balcony at Hunter and Clare's this morning ...

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.

 

 

New Zealand's Dawn Chorus...an early morning recording

 

This morning, alarm set for 5.30, I woke at 5.25 and quickly dressed then set up the small video camera out on the verandah.  My voice recorder too.

Last night, Gert and I had prepared both pieces of equipment for this morning, wanting to capture something of New Zealand's dawn chorus on video and audio here in Manapouri, Fiordland.

I miss the birds in Belgium. I miss the Bellbirds and the Tuis. I miss the familiarity of the birdsongs I've grown up hearing, consciously or unconsciously, and I wanted to try recording something of them.

Gert offered up his video camera so that I would have a little bit more memory and it turns out that our cabin, here on Hunter and Clare's property in Fiordland, looks straight out across a tree-filled landscape and on out to the mountains in the distance.

I was hoping for a bit of a sunrise video too but that was a little problematic, as the early morning cloud didn't burn off till after 8am.

So there I was, siting out on the verandah, with the equipment (such as it is) as all those trees … the cabbage trees most specifically, quietly exploded with the sounds of 100s of bird voices welcoming the new day.

It was like a wall, or perhaps being enclosed in a bubble, of familiar sound … a sound that I love. 

And the air, have I written of the air here?

Fiordland's air is one of the sweetest in the world, to me. I sniff  it like a wine connoisseur might smell a wine.  It seems to be a mix of grass and stones, of the cabbage trees in flower, the beech forests that cover the land/  But more than that, here on the property, there are eucalyptus trees and all kinds of others too.

The most dominant scent out there was the sccent of water on river stones …or that was my interpretation. Over breakfast, just now, Clare explained that the watertable here is high and so perhaps I can smell the water just under the land I'm walking. 

But I love water.  New Zealand water, in all its forms.  The Tautuku bush walk after or during rain.  The smell of sun-warmed wet river stones.  The sea.  The torrential downpours that fall here in the South Island's rainforest country.

Then there's the quality of the light.  It has caught me this time.  Belgium has a high population density and the European traffic that flows through my adopted country means that I long for the sweet clean air of places like Fiordland … that place I spent two years living back in the 90s.

Gert and I squint when the sun is out. We are stunned by the light on these exquisite landscapes and, this morning, watching the morning light gently unfold … that has been something rather beautiful.

My senses are so enjoying this homecoming …

The Big New Zealand RoadTrip - Day One

 

We drove almost 500 hundred kilometres yesterday, down the east coast from Dunedin to Invercargill via the Catlins, stopping to walk an old favourite bush walk of mine at Tautuku. It was raining but that was entirely appropriate, as school camps there were all about rain and wet woollen outdoor gear and that drying room where clothes went to recover after some time in the rain.

But honestly, New Zealand smells so damn good in the rain. There's the peat of the forest floor, the various ferns, the sea or the river, the stones under-foot … all of it, wet, is New Zealand to me.

I was driver, as we're left-side of the road here but I was lovely, stopping where ever Gert wanted to stop. Stopping where ever I wanted to stop too.

The landscape … well, let's just say I was like a very proud mother, showing her longed-for baby off to the stranger. I love this country. I love the 'ta-dah!' moments it offers up. This beach, that mountain, the view .. there were so very many 'ta-dah!' moments yesterday.

And as we wandered through Invercargill, quite behind schedule as we searched for my Nana's house … a childhood favourite destination of mine; then searching for another (affordable) 32GB usb stick for photo-backup (because we're taking millions of photographs), I let those memories of long ago wash over me.

Our little red car is going well but needs its tank filled every 400km, just to be sure, as the gauge doesn't work. Things got a tiny little bit worrisome as we made the journey between Riverton and Tuatapere … with me uncertain about the 'where' of the next petrol station.

The south coast of the South Island offered us an empty highway, exquisite seascapes, and great stands of wind-twisted trees ...bent low by the force of powerful winds. We stopped often.

Then we turned the car west and headed for the mountains and Manapouri. Gert pulled out his camera and occasionally took photographs from the passenger seat, in-between stops for beautiful scenes. It's stunning out there. I'm not sure how one returns to Belgium but that's for another day.

We arrived at Hunter and Clare's place just after 6pm, and it was so damn good to see them after so long. They had come to us in Belgium but I used to live in Te Anau and we became friends here.  This is one of those places where I do believe I might have left a piece of my soul.

Hunter is a long-time local in this wild corner of New Zealand. I have an interview with him that I would like to write up over the winter ahead. He and Clare have created a small paradise here but even that is an entire story I need to write up with photographs.

We caught up over a delicious homemade, (homegrown, actually) venison stew, in their renovated (since last time I was there) dining room. We talked, then they invited us down to the lake … The Lake … where we ooohed and ahhhed over the sun going down in the mountains.

Bedtime arrived and voila, they had yet another stunning surprise in store. We are staying on their property, in their exquisite (truly exquisite) little self-sufficient B&B cabin.  We are here!

As I type this, I'm sitting out on the verandah (or deck, as they call them here in New Zealand). It's 8.45am and the landscape is exploding with the most beautiful birdsong. We have heard the Bellbird and the Magpies chiming away and now … now there's this chorus of multiple birds. I believe this might be there 'happy to be alive'chorus.

I opened the curtains to trees and mountains and sunshine and now … well, we must head out and explore. Mustn't we ...

I'll leave you with an image of the wind-twisted pines of yesterday, down on the south coast of the South Island of New Zealand.

 

 

A Kiwi Icon ... really

"In primeval New Zealand cabbage trees occupied a range of habitats, anywhere open, moist, fertile and warm enough for them to establish and mature: with forest; around the rocky coast; in lowland swamps, around the lakes and along the lower rivers; and perched on isolated rocks. Approaching the land from the sea would have reminded a Polynesian traveller of home, and for a European traveller, conjured up images of the tropical Pacific."  - Philip Simpson

I knew this was a shot I really wanted to hunt down while I was home in New Zealand. 

The Cabbage Tree is probably my favourite tree in the whole entire world ...and it has berries that attract exquisite native birds like the Bellbirds and Tuis.

I found these trees in front of Lake Taupo, up in the North Island, and wandered around it awhile, trying to work out just how to capture this New Zealand scene I so wanted to capture.

My Dad ...

I'm just back from 24 hours out at Dad's and it was grand.

He took Gert and I along to the local RSA, where he's president, and we were able to spend a lovely couple of reminiscing hours with people not seen in a long time.  My favourite, without doubt, was Mr Bertie Paul.  I can't even write his name without smiling.  He's 89 and as delightful as ever.

But mostly it was superb to finally catch up with my dad.  It's been far too long. 

And then one of my little brother's wandered in from Australia ... 14 years of not seeing Stephen was finally over.  He and Julie looked just the same.

It's been an almost overwhelming couple of weeks back in New Zealand, so far.  A time of incredible kindness from people not seen in so long.  And it continues, with stories still needing written.  But life goes on and I'm off out again soon.

Tot later, but in the meantime, meet my dad.

 

My Friend Fiona, and her Kiwi Bloke, Barry

I first met Fiona when we were 13 years old.  She was a Fairfield girl, I was a Mosgiel girl and somehow, during that first year in the district high school, we became friends.  And we've never stopped being friends in all the years in-between.  'Quite some' years, as some Belgians might say in English.

When Fiona and her Kiwi bloke, Barry,  first heard I was finally coming home after so long away they said, 'We'll find you a car for while you're here!'  And they did. 

Monday night and they invited us up to their place on the hill for a bit of roast lamb and a catch-up.  I should have known it might involve one of Barry's extraordinary inventions.  In this instance, it was a massive oven he'd built ... absolutely massive. 

Did I photograph The Oven Beast in its entirety?  I did not.  I'm currently regretting that but you do get a sense of it, perhaps, when you see how small the leg of lamb appears, in its cooking position, hanging from the Number 8 wire in the door.  The logs were monsters too.

Fiona and Barry have achieved so much in the years I've been gone.  They have built a new home on top of a hill that looks out over the east coast and down the valley into Dunedin city.  A beautiful new home built to resist the fearsome winds that occasionally come calling.

There are 2 horses living with them these days, a few sheep, one dog and two cats.  Fiona always has been a collector of small and helpless creatures.

At times they had Gert and I doubled over with laughter.  Many stories were told while sitting next to that huge roaring oven as the leg of lamb cooked and Gert got to know something of these excellent old friends of mine.  Friends I simply adore.

And the car they found ... well it's red and comes complete with its own set of stories too.  I expect it to feature in more than a few after we leave to explore the South Island next week.  I may have to start a blog page just for The Red Car. Let's see how that goes.

But to Fiona and Barry ... thank you for always being there over the years, and for being the kind of friends who accept all and expect so very little, including that 8 years of absence. 

Here's a taste of the view from their house on the hill.

On Holiday ...

I have trouble stopping.  I mean, I don't really know how to stop and relax.  For me life is about the stories, the journeys, the experiences.

When I go on 'holiday', life becomes a bit of an avalanche of new places, new people, new stories.  And so it has been with this trip to New Zealand.

We have had a most excellent series of adventures, spending time with the best of people and seeing so much beauty while we struggled with adjusting to these New Zealand days lived12 hours ahead of our Belgian lives.

This morning, just as I was thinking I might shake off the lingering jetlag, I said yes to watching my niece at her ice-skating practice.  The one starting at 6am.  I had begged her, as it was something I had missed all these years spent in other places.

I set my alarm last night however instead of waking to it at 5.35am, I woke up at 4.45am.  Too early to get up, to late to go back to sleep in a good way.

So I got up.  I worked for a while in the quiet the morning until it was time to leave for that rather cold ice-skating rink where I had an enjoyable time, photographing my talented ice-skating niece and chatting with my sister and a couple of mums.

Actually, life was a bit of a cascade today.  We took my other most excellent niece to school, then had Gert's camera sensor cleaned before wandering Dunedin's main shopping street.  We met the lovely Mark for lunch out at the Starfish Cafe.  'The Mark' who, in a move that would have delighted Christine and Peter, snuck down and paid the bill while we were finishing our lunch upstairs.  I have the most remarkably kind and generous friends.

This afternoon I slipped away to my bed and was lying there, feeling wickedly lazy, when I remembered ...  but this is a holiday.

8.45pm and here I am, back in bed but blogging.  Trying to stay awake, just a little longer, in an attempt to normalise to New Zealand time once and for all.

Tomorrow's a quieter day ... or that's what we're planning.

Wandering ...

My little sister, Sandra, packed us into her car and took us wandering today ... out along the Otago Peninsula here in Dunedin.

It's a favourite old haunt of mine.  I lived in 4 houses out there between Broad Bay and Portobello.  We drove by some of them. Loved it all over again.

We came back over the high road and she stopped so I could attempt to capture this place again.

Dinner tonight, up at Fiona and Barry's place but that's a other whole long blog.  I'll write it tomorrow because tonight I'm full of good food and exhausted from laughing often with old friends I adore.

My Beach in New Zealand

The photograph below doesn't really capture why I might feel passionate about this particular beach here in New Zealand and it's frustrating because Long beach is so definitely my beach.

My 17-year-old niece, the lovely Georgia, drove us out there yesterday and finally, it felt like I had returned ... completely returned.

Long Beach is located over the back of Dunedin city - turn left just before Port Chalmers, climb up into the hills and drive towards the east coast a while.

The sun was out, as was the tide, and the beach was like all of my favourite beaches here ... almost empty.

Cooper, the happy hound, fulfilled his role and chased the tennis ball endlessly.  And that was me, looking  like the happiest little kid ... just quietly wandering along the waters edge. 

The yellow lupins were in full-bloom and, honestly, they would have to be my favourite flower.  They have this delicate scent that, when mixed with the smell of the sea, is as close to heaven as I can get.

We sat in the sun out there on the beach, simply breathing in the best of New Zealand's air - 2 lovely nieces, my sister and brother-in-law, and the Belgian bloke too - just enjoying being there, back on that beach I love so well.

Mount Tongariro, that erupting volcano

It hasn't been dull ... not at all, since we arrived in New Zealand just 5 days ago.

Christine and Peter Kirker made sure we had the most delicious taste of Auckland before we headed off on that roadtrip, bound for their city, the capital called Wellington.

Sights seen and foods tasted along the way upheld the standard of extraordinary roadtrip.

And so it was, on that fabulous journey, I was able to photograph my first volcanic eruption. Safely roadside but spectacular nontheless ... Mount Tongariro.