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...
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