End of the earth

You know I had to include at least one!

Wharariki Beach

Sledding NZ style

Hiking to the beach

Guess who wins this stare-down?

First bouldering lesson

The bluffs around Farewell Spit

At the Grove

Today was a leisurely day. The kids and Kohji slept late, while I enjoyed the luxury of a shower all by myself! Funny the things that become luxuries after only a week.

We started out for the day at the rip roaring hour of 11 am, headed for a tiny little patch of rain forest (yes, you read that right) called The Grove, just outside of Pohara (to the extent that anything can be considered outside of town, when town is about 500 meters worth of buildings along the road). It's a limestone grove with the feel of a rain forest - tree roots snaking around two story limestone rocks, massive palm trees, complete with a moist, rich smell unlike anything else in the area. It was a short 30 minute loop, complete with lookout and the change at the end for Kohji to give Kiyomi her first bouldering lesson on a large chunk of exposed granite. She caught on pretty quick, and ever her father's daughter, I looked up to see her about 15 feet off the ground!

As we had had a pretty late breakfast, we decided to head towards our next destination, Farewell Spit and Wharariki Beach. The small town of Collingwood seemed our best bet to grab some lunch, but it turned out to be a much smaller place than we had predicted. The one restaurant in town was open on Sunday, so we decided to give it a try. Now, in walking in to the restaurant/tavern as it billed itself, we were expecting the standard pub fare at best. So to our surprise, as noted in the last post, we kicked back in the back patio area chowing down on grilled cod open face sandwiches for us and home made mac and cheese for the kids. The back had a lovely little atrium that looked out over the tidal flats.

You'll note I keep refering to tidal flats and that's because it is a huge feature of the terrain aroun here and rather hard for me to get my head around. In some instances, the tide moves so far out at low tide that you can't even see the water's edge if you're standing on the water's edge. The difference in the appearance of the little communities around here is striking. If you do through at hide tide, it seems to be a little coastal town, Collingwood, for example, seems to be a little costal town complete with fishing boats and gulls. At low tide, the fishing boats appear to be abandoned relics moored to the mud flats and the gulls, merely out of place.

After dragging ourselves away from our cosy little spot, we headed along a narrow road (or at least it seemed perilously narrow in the Beast) towards the northern most point of the South Island, Farewell Spit. First off, gravel roads in the Beast are an adventure. Scottie's infamous words kept running through my head "I can't hold'er together Captin'". Secondly, if it looks like your heading into nothing but sheep pastures, you probably are. After finally reaching the parking area, such as it is, for Farewell Spit (noting that the parking area does double duty as a grazing pasture for both cows and sheep), we headed through not one, not two, but three seperate pasture gates before realizing that we had probably taken the wrong path. How can that be, you might ask, when you're effectively in the equivalent of an alpine meadow with a 360 degree view of open, green rolling pasture? I can only tell you it takes a special sort of talent. Also, don't be surprised if the kids tell you that the highlight of their New Zealand experience was playing "dodge the dung".

When we finally headed up to Farewell Spit, it's name did indeed do it justice. Looking out over a massive stone archway, it felt like we'd come to the edge of the world. I couldn't help but imagine a 19th century sailor's wife trecking up to this point to gaze out at the churning waters and vastness beyond as a way of saying goodbye. The bluff looked out across a bay to a limestore cliff rising out of the water like a bastion against the rising sea. It was dramatic to say the least.

However, the impact of the Spitt was negligeable compared to the one made by the Wharariki Beach. To give you an idea of the character, one of the guidebooks descriped the beaches at Able Tassman as the supermodels, while Wharariki is a moody, tattooed, tempestuous women. The track to get to the beach starts in, what else, a grazing meadow. There are no slapping water sounds, no salt spray smell. Just meadow as far as the eye can see, complete with dung dodging opportunities. Don't get me wrong, the meadows themselves are beautiful, with steep valleys carved out, and trees along the valley floors that appear to have been sculpted by the wind.

About a 10 minute tramp in, your feet hit sand. All around you though, is still meadow. 5 minutes further on, you're spit out onto this massive sand dune. It's the most incongruous and surreal terrain change I've ever experienced. The dune itself seems endless and the kids tore into it at full tilt. In true Canadian fashion, Kiyomi immediately exclaimed that it was like snow and darned if she wasn't right. It did seem like I should be slapping on a pair of skis and taking off across the fine soft sand. A minute or so later, I was wishing that I had my ski goggles as the wind was indeed wiping the sand around.

After the dunes, a vast beach opens up into the interminable sea. We were there at low tide and it was literally like walking on the ocean floor. Massive stone islands towered above us, complete with caves and lounging seals. The tide moves out several hundred meters here and so, you literally are walking on the sea bed. It's breathtaking and a little frightening. Although I knew the tide was still on it's way out, it felt like at any moment a wave to come to retake it's rightful land. I'll try to include a couple pictures, but truth be told, I don't have the words to describe the impression this place makes.

We left Wharariki rather late, so dinner was at the Telegraph Hotel in Takaka. Once again, a surprising dining experience from something that on the outside looks and feels like a pub. Kohji had lamb shank with garlic potatoes and fresh vegetables, while I had curried vegetable soup and orange ginger wontons, with some short of winter veg inside (yummy). This from a place that looks like it's standard fare would be crisps and lager by the pool table. I guess today was the hidden treasure day.

Things we've learned: New Zealanders use the term "sweet" when they mean to say something is good.