Day 21 - Abel Tasman Tours and Nelson Gets Wind

Today? Surprising. Went for a run about 730, which was ok, sun low, misty start but burning off rapidly, some people but not a lot about. Ran back up the beach, back towards the main road, but couldn't cross between main Kaiteriteri beach and Little Kaiteriteri - the tide was too high and only rocks. However, there turned out to be a path over the bluff, usual thing for here, a mix of hard gradient and steps. I ran up, all the way along the little beach to the end and the big sticky-up rock at the end, where I did some stretches and then ran back. Spoke briefly to an early morning fisherman - apparently very quiet but it gets him up in the morning!

I was considering our best course of action for the day. I had passed the Abel Tasman Sea Shuttle booth on the way out - we'd checked their literature last night, but hand' really grasped how the boat timings worked etc. Since on the way back from the run I noticed there was someone there, I stopped to ask him, and things got clearer. Basically, you buy an out and return from whichever points you want, and move between them how you will, all in the otherwise inaccessible Abel Tasman National Park. Sounds good, but can I raise Jen to get the 9.00?? I jogged home, to find her up, bed sorted, but not there. I started getting breakfast - she turned out to be on a loo trip, and thought that the boat + walk trip would be marv. I'd kind of settled on a simple loop, about an hour, rather than the alternative 11km walk, from Anchorage up to the Peak Head and round via another beach, then get the boat back. So that's what we did. 

The boats are pretty cool, they have an extending gangway off the front of the (jet-powered?) aluminium catamaran, which comfortably reaches the beach so you don't get your feet wet. We moved from the campsite to the nearby carpark, bought tickets and off we went! Various people on the boat - a couple doing the longer walk (he had a horrifying combover), a couple with a very young baby, maybe 18months because she was walking, and a pair of young ladies who were doing a run! The boat didn't go directly, instead stopped at Split Apple Rock initially as a taster, pointed out where the girl would be picked up, and then round the corner to Anchorage. It felt strange being dropped off, almost like an adventure! The baby couple got off too. 

We walked down the beach, signposted handily for the Peak Head loop, and found that there are cabins and campsites, and lots of people staying over. This would be quite fun I think, I'm sure it's extremely quiet! There are loos, but no cooking stuff, and all local water has to be boiled. We plodded up the steep path to the Head, overtaken by a couple of young ladies, and appreciating the musical sound of the bellbird - we saw at least one, but they are hard to spot in the trees. The view from the head is pretty classic - golden beach (high iron content granite apparently), shading to blue sea, lots of green cover. 

The head walk loops down through a beach on the other side of the head from Anchorage, so we had another view in a few minutes. On the way down I found a Swatch, which although I was initially tempted to keep, figured that it was some kind of karmic thing with my glasses, so I hung it on a tree to be easy to spot. A few minutes later the young ladies who'd passed us earlier made their way back up - maybe one of them dropped it. Who knows? The beach was absolutely gorgeous - a tropical cream in the flesh (or rock!). A couple was packing away their tent *so you can stay there as well, blimey!), and some others were on the beach, drying clothes, eating etc. in the hot sun. Magic. 

So we headed back up the loop, climbed back over the ridge and arrived back at Anchorage - a man ran up in the opposite direction as we did. We still had just under a n hour left before the boat came, so figured we'd walk to Watering Cove, supposedly 25 minutes away. Now this WAS a steep climb!! After an initial flat section, and a gentle gradient, it just took off - and the path itself was much more rudimentary than the other one. A long hard slog uphill, broken by one flatter bit, before we reached the crest. Then the descent - at which point Running Man overtook us on the descent again, going in the same direction! Blimey. Eventually Jen decided that she didn't want to risk not being able to clim back up fast enough to make the boat, so she started to head back while I went on down. The cove itself was lovely, with a large standing rock out to sea, and a couple of kayaks and their operators readying themselves to leave. Running Man meanwhile had put on a life vest and was about to leave in his own kayak! Wow. Made me feel dead.

Just to show I could, I jog back up the hill as best I could - there were lots of roots and rocks, which would have slowed Jen a lot. At one point I wondered if I would catch my toe on a root and pitch down the hillside, never to be seen again, unmourned, unmissed! Nope, didn't happen. Jen wasn't at the highest point as I'd expected, so I caught up with her on the downhill. We made it back with a nominal 15 minutes to spare!

The boat back was pretty relaxed, not many people, only the baby couple, who/d also been waiting on the beach with us. Their daughter had been squealing and jumping in the sea edge, getting her nappy wet, eventually falling over and giggling with pleasure. Very cute. One runner girl appeared at an intermediate stop - she had to blag her way on because her mate had the ticket, and had run on for another 3km to another place. 

A leisurely lunch in the car park (how British! Should have got out the picnic table, except it would probably have collapsed, defo not to be trusted with one's grub), and then we rolled off to look for somewhere else for the night. An interesting event, well, kinda, occurred at the gas station - the cashlady asked me for $35, when I asked for pump 14, so I questioned it - "no, 35", so I paid. Went out, checked the pump, defo 58! Now an old yellow Toyota Hiace-based camper had pulled up and used pump 13, a kind of punchy guy got out and a very tall skinny NZ type lady filled up. She was still in the kiosk, so I went back and questioned the amount - yup, hers was $35 and she'd been charged 58! So I gave her $23 cos I'm a nice guy and  now feel good about myself :-)

We made our way round to Nelson, lots more fruit and grapes and stuff growing, the road by the coast most of the way. Nelson fairly unprepossessing, Richmond is pretty much a suburb rather than a separate town, and we were looking for the Tahunanui (Tahuna - something, nui - big, so Nobanui would be just what you'd think…) Beach campsite… which we eventually found down the end of Beach Road. This is a huge place, like, really big, hundreds of sites, with two helpful ladies in reception. We picked a spot, it was 3 o' clockish, an easy day, shaded, flat, seemed ok. However, after a couple of beers, and some lunch-replacing snacks, we decided to take a look around as it was very windy, quite chilly even given the sun's heat. I found a whole extra campsite, over to the west, and we moved over there to a much more sheltered spot which was instantly warmer. Good call. In the process of moving, we met an Ozzified Kiwi, moved there 40 years ago, looking for his son and g-daughter who were walking around. We now know he is a partially-retired builder, born-again, gets $1100 fortnightly pension, doesn't vote Labour, and felt the spirit move in him yesterday at the local Pentecostal church. Then we went for a walk on the beach, well, beach, it was/is an estuarial inlet, with sand and kind of alluvial mud underfoot, requiring jumping across a small stream to get away from our bit. About a mile away, the Tasman Bay ocean roared, not quite to itself, some kitesurfers were evident, dogwalkers etc. So we trudged into the wind and found the real beach, crossed another river and wet our toes in the sea, before turning back into the sunset and strolling homeward. 

Supper - Jen wasn't feeling too good so she only had rice, whilst I had some more of the smoked chicken with broccoli and gouk-fried rice. The guy next door (closest, about 25m away!) was from Seattle, and I met him on the way back from the washing up. On their way shortly to Oz, East coast for 5 weeks, having spent maybe 2 in NZ. I told him he must be mad, since Oz is full of things that want to kill you, whereas NZ is just marvellous and there's plenty to do in 5 weeks! Ah well… Also met Jess in the kitchen, a young lady who asked me about the safety or otherwise of the oily guck in the grillpan - this morning she announced that the roast potatoes tasted fine, real good, so clearly no problem there. Phew. She and Hannah didn't need to be ill.

And before we went to bed, the beach turned into a real beach!! High tide had arrived… quite a bit of water movement involved there methinks. The only trauma was discovering our house had developed a leak in a toilet, and Liz was handling it. We texted her so she could read it when she got up, and then got a text back about midnight, while we were in bed asleep. Some texts later, she also asked if Jen could call her sometime soon. Hmm. That's a worry… and Jen worried about this all night I know. I was just wondering how the damn cistern got cracked! G'night.

Day 20 - The Great North Rush

Planning last night, it's clear that we're lucky in a way to have been able to leave Clearwater on Friday, because the schedule is going to involve a fair amount of driving to get back to Picton for Monday's ferry. We therefore make an effort, led by Jen I have to grudgingly admit, to leave early, and despite dumping the grey water and filling up with fresh, we get away about 8.30 or so. Again, it's very very misty, I can't see the area around us at all - the campsite was right beside a golf course, surprised no stray balls came to visit last night. In fact, we have to put the van heater on! Not the gas one, the usual radiator driven jobbie. That's also because the stupid dryer didn't dry the washing last night, despite using 2X$2 coins, and now it's festooned around the inside of the van, like a mobile bloody laundry. Smells nice though. 

The road to Greymouth is more of the abandoned settlement atmosphere - yuck, if I were a kid, I'd want to get out pretty badly. One place looks like it's just been left, but 50 years ago. The railway runs alongside the road a lot of the way - at one point, a vast number of sinister black coal wagons were parked beside the route, at least we assumed that's what they were… Maybe Dr Death had some more insidious purpose for them. Mmwahahahahaha!

Greymouth itself we took the trouble to take a five minute drive around, and that's all it took. Surprisingly large, it nonetheless resembles other similarly sized Kiwi towns, and there wasn't any reason to stay. Now at least, however, we were heading up the coast, the West coast, exposed to the Tasman Sea again and hemmed in by mountains.

And you certainly are here! They come right down to the edge of the sea, with the road just a brief levelling delay before the vegetation meets the beach and the high tide meets the beach too - nowhere to hide there from the considerable breakers rolling in. Waves were all dumpers too - ouch, lots of white water and turmoil. Jen has a plan to see the Punakaiki Pancake Rocks and Blowholes, so we pull over when they hale into view. Nice visitor centre, but they aren't the main attraction, so over the road we go… 

This is a "flax forest" as Jen puts it - vast numbers of huge flax plants, with Nikau palms sticking out of them, and other plants by the ton as well. The path is tarmac, which is good because it's further than you'd think. The attraction is these strange sea-worn stacks, limestone but amazingly layered, maybe 5cm per layer thickness, which have also had holes and caves worn in them by constant water battering. This makes for strange sonorous booms and large blowholes on big swells; we're in luck because it's 10 and high tide is 10.30 for maximum effect. I really like this place; the stacks and especially the sounds are very cool, it doesn't feel crowded despite the large number of photo takers and video stars, and the flax forest is quite entrancing. 

We decline coffee here, ether to make some time, so we press on, heading inland just before Westport. Berlins has a cafe with the distinction of… well, nothing really, except it has a Hole In One Challenge - 3 balls for $5 to make a 145m hole-in-one, and a stage set up on the lawn out the back for C&W music to be played, presuming from the ride 'em cowboy backdrop. The Most Dense Ginger Slice Available in the Western World though, and I end up drinking Jen's coffee because its size defeats her, as well as sharing the Slice and the ChocDate Cake. Argh for me - blehlehlehlehlehlehlehleh.

I've been driving much faster than usual, conscious of the distance vs. time equation, and getting a bit of the red mist on this relatively windy route. I'm playing every corner like Valentino (in your dreams), trying out different approaches on each one, closing up on the slower vehicles we're always behind - it's obsessing! I let a couple of cars past, and then they don't get away at all, and we reach Murcheson where they both turn off. We need nothing here, so drive on, and turn off the main Nelson-bound highway towards Motueka. This is a quiet road (Mr Kruse extols its virtues, only slightly influenced by the local Board of Commerce), and since it's only 3ish, we've done well, and I start to slow down and relax a bit, fortunately. 

It's much warmer here, and drier - they grow fruit, hops, some cattle, even starting viticulture on the upper slopes. Oh yes, we've seen lots of tree ferns - they grow this side of the Alps, but not much on the Pacific side. Not wet enough I guess further South, but here at least it's warmer. We make it past Motueka, towards Kaiteriteri (Kai - cooking place, teriteri presumably some foodstuff), and park up outside the campsite office. This is the camp we'd targeted as an extreme successful possibility yesterday, and we're glad to be here, instead of further south. Nice surprise! It's also very large, but well-appointed, lots of everything. There's also a really nice, classical beach, yellow sand (looks like Riley the builder dropped off a few truckloads!), and quite a few people enjoying the warm waters of the Tasman Bay. We have tea, beer, snacks, a swim or two, dinner (smoked chicken, yum),  a post-prandial stroll, wine… God, suddenly I'm feeling tired writing all this crap and it's time for bed! G'night. Tomorrow maybe get a glimpse of the Abel Tasman NP, but it seems hard to get anywhere without walking lots, let's see what happens, it's always surprising.

Day 19 - The Alps and Happy Birthday Lizbufanne

At the risk of seeming repetitive, a slow start… Jen went off for a poo, while I lounged around with the door open, snuggy under the covers. No head, but a bit slow… The day was totally fogged out, very cool, even chilly, and completely windless, utterly still. As for the incredible mountains, well, they didn't even exist! Totally impossible to see beyond the borders of the lake, in any direction. So we had breakfast, wondering if Charles would drop by - clearly no chance of a sail whatever else happened. 

As the sun came up, the mist cleared, revealing the hills and mountains stage-by-stage under a totally clear sky. The lake was completely still, a mirror, and now it was possible to see how the various pictures we'd seen of Lake Clearwater had been taken. I took lots of pictures, just for a change, hard not to really. 

About 10.30 we rolled out, going past Charles' house, to take a few pictures of the place and see if he had in fact left. Yup, probably left early, not surprising since he had work to get back to, and Caroline doing kid management etc. back in the city. Cheers, mate! Really grateful… 

The dirt road on the way out seemed much shorter and smoother than it had on the way in - are we getting adjusted or acclimatised i.e. our sensitivity to smashing crockery is reducing, am I improving my dirt road driving (we went slightly faster, < 50 rather than 30ish), is the road in fact asymmetrical because people never get to drive back having been lost forever up the track - who knows? The 10km went pretty easy anyway, and we headed for Darfield via the Rakaia River Gorge bridge dump station. Darfield? On the way, and large enough for a reasonable food shop and diesel and gas and stuff. So that's what we did - and stopped for a coffee, with a banana caramel muffin for Jen and a tropical one for me. Oh, and cash, which worrying revealed a nearly empty bank account - must be doing something right then.

And for Arthur's Pass, constructed in a year in the 19th century by a thousand navvies armed with dynamite, drills, shovels and barrows. This was quite an achievement, especially as some of the time they had to shovel the snow away first, only to find it completely refreshed the following morning! The road climbs really steeply as you go over the first set of mountains, with huge swoops and long straights in-between. The plain that follows, with Castle Hill Village, is a wide valley, between the mountain ranges, for the Porter and Broken Rivers. We passed Lake Pearson, named after a certain Joseph Pearson, naturally - how could it be any other name - shortly after Mt Lyndon, close but no cigar! All of this in bright sunshine. 

At Arthur's Pass itself we stopped to check out the Devil's Punchbowl Falls, a fairly stiff climb up a well-maintained path, with steps and bridges, right up under the falls, which are pretty spectacular. A couple of guys romped past us - older guy and possibly son-oriented younger guy, clearly a ego-maintaining race to the top, we found them sitting down when we got there, so not so cool after all. The info centre there is pretty interesting too, and there's loads more places I'd love to have walked, but we didn't really have time.

After the falls, comes the Otira Viaduct, a recent addition to the scene. This is pretty much the sort of thing you see in the French Alps, huge stilt-walking ribbon sweeping across the faces of mountains, with rockfall protection and a rather nifty waterfall chute - very 60's modernist! The rata trees, with bright red flowers, densely packed on the hillsides, are a lovely contrast to the greens and shale colours that prevail - yeah, someone set fire to the foresty mountain bits to clear them, and now they are eroding and sliding into the valleys.

The aim for the night was Lake Brunner's Motor Lodge near Moana, apparently in a park setting. The post-Pass drive was pretty cool too, heading away from the main road to take the road up towards Greymouth. Lots of coal found here once upon a time - the whole area was founded upon the mining of coal once the gold fever had passed - and it's probably still there, but nobody wants it so much any more. 

The Motor Lodge is pretty ok, not very busy, but the reception person announces that the Kiwi Sanctuary in Moana has been closed for a few years now. However, wild wekas are available in the campsite, so please don't feed them! Mr Weka pays us a number of visits in our short stay. He's a pretty weird looking chap - I can't get used to the "no wings or even arm-like bits" thing at all, looks like he's in a straight-jacket! Wicked looking beak, and some pretty solid legs and taloned feet. The movement is, well, bird-like, sudden darty movements with pauses in between. I had trouble taking his picture in low light because the shutter speed wouldn't freeze his movement, so I had to guess when he was going to pause and time it right!

This turns out to be a pretty quiet place, despite the receptionist's claim that it will fill up - there's only us and a Swiss couple in the camper slots. After an excellent supper of grilled sole, rice and onion/peppers/ginger/garlic topping, we repair to bed, tired but happy. Yay New Zealand! Still can't believe I'm here...

Day 18 - A Lake of Unexpected Size, and Windsurfing!

I kind of wanted to get out of bed to take pictures of the sunrise, because it would light up the mountains, but somehow couldn't get up. It rained in the night, and I had already packed away the awning because it was blowing hard. The wind came and went but continued to blow until morning, rocking the van. We got up about 8, and then hatched a plan to walk around the lake - I'd estimated it at about 8km. We left about 9 or 9.30, should be plenty of time before Charles's ETA.

Things started off well, the path was pretty easy to see, and the lake stretched away in front of us as we started off in a clockwise direction. After a bit the path moved away from the water's edge, and turned into a 4X4 track, marked by orange pipe on metal poles. The swampy end was supposed to be marked by white pipe, and it was - we managed to skirt the end pretty easily, keeping an eye open for the rare crested grebe nesting there. Maybe we saw one, hard to tell. Lots of other waterbirds though. 

Once past the end of the lake, the path got hard to follow. We didn't want to stick with the 4X4 track as it seemed to go too far away from the lake, so eventually we cut down towards the water and found what seemed to be a path. Great. We followed this for a bit, then ended up having to go upstream of a small brook that fed the lake - we had already crossed the main stream from the west end. Again we struck out from the 4X4 track, and again we were brought back to it by the need to cross streams. That track was so boring though! We were not even opposite the hamlet though - this lake is much bigger than it looks! the GPS was still working, even with a single bar of battery, which surprised me, and it revealed we'd already gone quite a way. 

Heading towards the top of the lake, the eastern end, it went much further up than we'd realised from the hamlet, and again we had to follow the 4X4 road. Eventually, we crossed a very broad brook feeding the lake - 4X4s ford it, but we used a single plank and log bridge, which Jen found a bit challenging initially, but managed ok. Then it was basically metalled road back to the campsite, which was hard going and thirsty work by this time. Total distance walked 7 miles!! Big congrats to all. And although it was 11.45, Charles was still not in evidence, although we'd seen several cars/SUVs. A good walk, with some interesting challenges in navigation.

I rested my feet - the cut heel felt pretty good and no sign of the little toe blisters again. Jen's were good too, she'd worn her trainers. Looking out for a possible Charles vehicle, I spotted a lady painter up the hill, working presumably on a painting of the view across the lake, also a family in a Delica hanging around outside the loos - what was that about?

Charles, of course, turned up on time pretty much, unexpectedly driving a monster Mercedes Sprinter LWB, in silver. He greeted us effusively - nice guy, easy to get on with. He moved his van over to the rigging spot in the day area, and opened it up. What an Aladdin's cave!! He totes around about 13 boards, 13 sails, loads of masts, 4 booms, all the family's wetsuits, booties on a drying rack (cool!), all racked up and ready to rock. In moments he'd assessed the current wind, and launched into rigging four sails (two each) and a selection of boards. Incredible! Refusing my help on the grounds that he knows what he's doing, I left him to it to take some pictures. Apparently Micah Buzanis is going to be told to rack his vehicle up like this…

The lake was pretty windy, although apparently not from the optimum direction, more N than the preferred NW. I sailed a 5.3 NP Firefly and 93l JP Freestyle Carbon board - yum. Worked really well, and the flat (for me!) water was a fantastic opportunity to practise gybes (normal + duck), 360s and fast tacks, as well as blast along trying hops off the small chop. Apparently when it really honks they do get some swell, but clearly it's not going to be Jaws! What a fantastic place to practise freestyle - people should definitely get up here and have a go, Cribby especially. It was great to be out, and I was really glad of the wetsuit - not cold water, but prevents unwelcome shocks! My hands blistered a bit - working too hard, and holding on too hard too early when not confident of the kit.

Eventually we stopped for lunch and a rest. Charles went up to his house - amazingly, it is the one on the point, in the pole position! Wow. I napped after a sandwich. When he returned about a hour later (4.30-ish) the wind had dropped a bit, so I switched to a FS107 and 6.1m - all the same stuff, just scaled up a bit. I was a bit more tired and sleepy than I'd thought, and the wind more flukey - quite hard work really. Then it dropped off a bit more, and Charles got out, indicating that I should too. The wind was about to change…

First it dropped completely, and the clouds to the west disappeared, replaced by clouds to the east. A large blanket of cloud formed over the hills opposite the hamlet, then it started to swirl around, standing up in the face of a slight NW/W.  Then the wind came up really strongly - from the south, really ripping through the trees and kicking up some serious chop. Glad we stopped and didn't get caught out! The wind swung further, and the easterly clouds hung around. 

Meanwhile Charles had packed all his stuff, and invited up to his place for dinner and wine. We walked up about 7, and what a nice place… Incredible views across the lake, you can see Mount D'Archiac which is quite a way away. The cloudscape and rapidly changing light and colours in all directions was astonishing, and we used Charles' nifty telescope to take a look around. Dinner was beef with olives and lots of lemon and green beans, with mashed potato. Wine was one of "his" Sauvignon Blancs for a starter, with a Pinot Noir or 2 then more Blanc. How different the Blanc was from that acidic stuff we had back in Blenheim! Apparently it's all bottled and sold too early, because the NZ tax system doesn't allow it to sit untaxed. Hmm. Mistake.

We sat and talked until 11 or later - had a look around the house systems, PV solar electricity, solar heating, flush loos, shower, bath, gas, phone, huge 2KW inverter so the fridge and freezer run continuously for free (after the $10k investment…) - very much a rich man's green place! Lots of talk - politics, education, apparently Caroline is related to John Britten (RIP)- my total engineering hero - and next time we visit I can go to the factory, meet people (even maybe Aaron Slight eek!), and eat at JB"s self-built house of spectacular engineering madness e.g. turned columns he did himself. So if I didn't want to come back before, now I really have a reason! And there's so much more to do - next time more walks, I really would like to do a long multi-day walk somewhere remote.

Staggered home under a moonlit but overcast sky, fell asleep, g'night all! Big thanks to Charles for putting in so much effort to meet and greet, it was really appreciated.

Day 17 - Now what?

Slow getting out of bed this morning, despite the potential attractions of a mountain dawn - watched it through the side window! It's not so windy initially, nor so hot of course. The shower is a strange Heath-Robinson arrangement, with a chain to be hooked on a nail to keep it running, but it's rather like warm rain, splashy and comforting, and there's a stool to keep your stuff dry on.

Our plans today are not made at all. We're supposed to be meeting Charles up at Lake Clearwater tomorrow - he'll be there 11.30-12ish, and we're not too far from there now…

*** Some time later... ***

What, as ever, an interesting day! Sitting beside Lake Clearwater, which is true to its name, watching the changing light, clouds and rainy mist over the mountains in the distance. Right now, they are milkily obscured, but with the potential for a band of sunlight from the distant brightening sky to light up the furthest slopes. It's actually raining here, in s very desultory and uncommitted way, just enough to smell like rain and dampen the grass underfoot. How did we get here? Headed for Hakatere and kept going is the simple answer…

But before that we turned right out of the Pudding Hill Road, back on Hwy 72, with a plan to maybe visit Alford Scenic Reserve, but we must have missed the turn. Instead, we ended up visiting Alford cafe, a very smart roadside venue that would be incongruous if it weren't for the rural chiller installed in the corridor to the unisex single-seat toilet, and the cosy front room with comfy chairs in which we drank coffee, ate the inevitable date scone, and read the local(-ish) newspaper. The English guy who runs it, presumably with his apparently equally English wife, came here, or more specifically Ashburton, because of the quality of the schools and the proximity to Christchurch International Airport. No six hour drive for him from further South! We also found some wire mesh moas, and the Alford Rural fire fighting equipment store, and that a boy is missing presumed dead after disappearing swimming in a river in Christchurch.

From there, having missed our opportunity with one Scenic Reserve, and found coffee, we chanced it with Sharplin Falls. Approached via a single track dirt road, leading into woods with twists and turns, the car park offers several destinations - Sharplin Falls, The Mt Somers Sub-Alpine Walkway, with optional accommodation in Pinnacles Hut or the Woolshed Hut, or ascending to Mt Somers' peak itself. Since the latter are 4-5 hours minimum, we settled for the 45 minute trek to the falls - good choice. A serious bit of ascending, made easier by a well-laid path and constructed steps, leads via a cantilevered gantry or gallery under rocks and a final scramble over broken boulders, to a beautiful pair of waterfalls (over missus). Jen clambered down to the water, and back up to the track, with a great smile of satisfaction to be so engaged in the bush. (Probably an old Fairport Convention song, were truth e'er told). We met some folk as we walked back, parents, child and grandparents (g-mum struggling down steps, God alone knows how she managed going up that many!), a young couple, an older couple whose female bent our ears on the subject of the 179 steps she'd so far encountered, like we might be interested having already met them and more, and a pair of elderly female companions who were scampering down the early part of the track as we had before we met the steps!! Jen confessed that she'd been counting the steps in the flights, and revealed that very often staircases have an odd number - these were often 25, with some at 29 made up of 11+11+7, three primes. And who says people aren't secretly obsessive?

We didn't stay longer than for a cup of tea, because the black flies were beginning to zero in, with me getting hit and Jen a couple of times. Pass the anti-histamine cream, honey! From there, we drove through Staveley and turned to go through the village of Mount Somers - a place there sells diesel, handy - and we hit the dirt road some 10km from Lake Clearwater itself. Driving on dirt is hard - we did about 30 klicks, which seems to be a reasonable compromise of speed versus vehicular self-disassembly, and has the advantage of not raising too much dust. We were passed early on by a Porsche Cayenne Turbo, which was probably doing 70 or more, huge dust cloud, yawn. The problem is the little "stutter bumps", and I tried to damp them by driving on the loose gravel, which seemed smoother and had the effect of also not having the wheels in the ruts and the ridge banging the underside about. 

Lake Cave precedes Clearwater - for "boaties" Charles declared when I spoke to him yesterday. The Cayenne was casually parked at the lake edge, with its presumable occupants hanging around. It's not there now, so who knows what that rush was about. Clearwater is bigger, and reached, along with the notional campsite, by driving past the "huts" or baches (pronounced "batches" in case you've not heard that…), which are hugely varied in size and pretentiousness. The one in the most prominent position is enormous, built of grey-painted concrete blocks with large windows and insanely tidy turf and picnic benches outside. Others are little more than corrugated shacks - one looks like a large brick-built pizza oven with a shed attached!

The sun was burning down and the wind was truly howling, a NWester, when we arrived. I parked the van to shelter the side door, which was very nice while we had lunch. Since then, the wind has come and gone, the rain and sun have come and gone and come (and gone!), a rainbow blessed us for maybe ten minutes, Alma, Low Peak, Myrmidon, The Thumbs and Split Peak have been visible or shrouded in mist - you name it. I love this place! I thought it was dry and arid when we arrived, but it's not. The rain has damped the dust, the tui is making its elusive, enigmatic music over in the trees (if that's what it is, Charles says later there aren't any here), and I'm really hoping that I'll be able to sail the lake when Charles arrives tomorrow. Someone was totally blasting on it today earlier, some nice double duck gybes (yup, that's turn the sail twice - eat that, Wolfgang!). On the way back from our reconnaissance walk, I stopped to look at a plywood and fibreglass Formula board knock-off, and was startled by a missel thrush staring up at me from about 2 feet away. We sat and studied each other until we mutually decided we were done, then went on our separate ways, me with a headshake, thrushie with a admonishing cluck. I can't wait to see what the stars look like from here, and what tomorrow brings.