Rosemary's Ramblings in October  2013

The highlight of October was a ten day trip to the South Island.  I left on Friday  4th October so that I could be present at Seth's blessing on Sunday 6th October.  My first great-grandchild!  The problem about seeing my dear Seth is that I am unlikely to see him again until he is much bigger.  I realize how fortunate I was in seeing William and Jonathan so often during their childhood.  Also I saw the Chadderton children while they were young, but once they left Hamilton they left me behind in more ways than one.

I enjoyed a few days with the Christchurch family and then took off on a three-day walking holiday on the Kaikoura coast before returning to the city for one more Sunday.  I read about the Kaikoura Coast Track in a recent Forest and Bird magazine, and decided it was just the thing for me.  Three farmers and their families made the track over their respective farms, and provided excellent and unique accommodation.  It is perhaps the original private walking track in New Zealand.  It is a walk without heavy packs.  The packs are transported each day to the next destination, by arrangement with the people who deliver the rural mail.  (Whether that arrangement can continue much longer is doubtful, as mail deliveries are probably going to be reduced.)  In all the 'huts' there are cooking facilities, hot showers, flush toilets, clean pillows, and, much appreciated, wood-burners for heat during the colder weather. It is possible to hire bedding and towels, and buy food at each destination, but I took my own. 

The walk was unusual in that we started with a night first and began walking the next day.  Our first place to stay was called the Loft, and was just that, though probably custom built,  a large loft  divided into a common room with dining area, kitchen, bunk-rooms and bathroom.  It was a bitterly cold night.  Fortunately for me, I was not the first arrival, and the fire was already going in the wood stove.  I had four companions, two brothers and their wives.  The others decided to sleep in the common room for warmth, and I got the hot water bottle!  My bunk-room was warm enough anyway, because I had left the door open all evening to let the heat seep in from the common room.

The first day's walk was supposed to be along the beach, but a storm the day before had rendered the beach unsafe, even  impassable.  There were slips from the cliffs, the sea was being blown high, and the rivers that flowed across the beach were flooded and hazardous.  The alternative was to walk by road to the next destination.  That was not as boring as it might seem, though we were  disappointed when we heard the news.  The road wound from farm to farm along the coast somewhat inland from the shore.  The countryside was spring fresh, with green paddocks, white sheep, black cattle, and interesting trees.  Furthermore, to the north was the magnificent Kaikoura range, which that night had receive a lavish coating of gleaming new snow.

At the second farmstead we stayed in a building called The Whare.  This was a bit cramped, but had all the facilities.  I was fortunate in having a little annex of my own.  I had an outside door, and I could also enter the main building through the ablution portion.  Perfect!  Semi-detached!  We arrived at lunch time, having come by a much shorter way than the scheduled walk.  After lunch the hostess took us for a walk across the farm to compensate for the walk we missed.

The second day's walk was over the Hawkswood Range.  The high point of the track was Mt Wilson.  Mt Wilson was only 640 metres, but we walked from near sea level, so it was a bit of a grunt for me.  There was a hut nestled under the shoulder of Mt Wilson, and this was our lunch stop. The hut had weeds and ferns growing around the walls inside, like a wild conservatory.  There were rough benches to sit on, and incongruously, a gas ring and a kettle, cups and tea and coffee.  There were a few emergency food supplies too, a boon for anyone caught out overnight by the weather. Incredibly, there was a flush toilet not many metres away.  Outside were patches of snow.

All too soon my companions wanted to be on their way.  The clouds seemed to be closing in, but it did not actually rain.  It was however very cold as we descended the other side of the hills.  I was glad I had a merino beanie and merino gloves.  We eventually came down to the valley where the Hawkswood homestead was.  We walked through the very muddy farmyard and a little way down the road to The Staging Post. 

That was a incredible place.  There were several dwellings loosely grouped together.  We stayed in Ash House, where there were two bunkrooms of unusual design, and a very cosy sitting room with kitchen, and modern showers and toilets. There was a Bed and Breakfast place, there was a Back-packers place, and a house where the Woofers lived, two Swiss girls at this time.  There was a house made of mud and brick, and one made of rammed earth.  There was a coach house which actually housed coaches, including a Stage Coach that used to ply between Christchurch and a little place called Parnassus.  The stage coach had Royal Mail emblazoned on it. There was an old smithy, or forge, with blacksmith's tools and equipment veneered by the dust of time.  There was a camping ground, and games room, and swimming pool (empty this time of year).

For our last day's walk it was back over the hills by another route.  Today the sun was bright, and the whole aspect was different.  The hills were no longer brooding, but the track up the valley through the woods was just as wet underfoot as yesterday's.  We walked up the west slopes of the range, through the rainforest up to the heights, to find ourselves, as we climbed up the shoulder of Skull Peak, looking down the sparse dry pastures of the eastern slopes.  Today in the benign sun, sheep and lambs made it a picture of serenity.  Our destination was another hut, Skull Peak Shelter.  This was a sound, well kept hut, which looked almost new, but was 10 years old. It was equipped as was Mt Wilson hut.  Far from huddling inside today, we sat on the veranda looking over unbelievable views.

Then it was down a track through the yellow broom, through farmland and into a QEII reserve of  fairly open bush beside a stream.  I think that was the best part of the walk.  We were heading back to Ngaroma, the place of the Loft.  Mark and Nicola came to pick me up, and were coming down the track to meet me.   It was a pleasant drive back to Christchurch until before the reached the city, the rain came with a vengeance.

I came home two days later.  Since then I have been doing much gardening, and some gadding about with Ray in Putaruru, Tirau, Matamata and Tokoroa.   In other words, back to normal.  The only unusual thing I have done this month was find – I really think I have this time – some ancestors.