Leaving Godwanaland

Walking the Tongariro Crossing and being able to hold and turn the pages of Cook’s journal describing the Atlantic shore of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland were the highlights of my last two weeks downunder.
The Tongariro Crossing is one of the world’s great walks, 19 kilometers across the volcanic heart of North Island New Zealand. It was a long, exhilirating day climbing steeply to craters, passing steaming turquoise lakes, descending scoria slopes, being swallowed in cloud and then a long descent through the tussock grass and southern beech forest to a welcome shuttle back to the hotel. It was also a great personal achievement as 12 months previously I was progressing slowly and sometimes painfully through physiotherapy for my broken ankle.
Then it was time to return to Australia, say my farewells in Adelaide, visit friends in rural New South Wales and head for Canberra, a capital city like no other I have visited. It is completely planned and dedicated to being a national capital, nothing else. The Parliament Building makes a grand statement presiding over all the other buildings of national importance in a parklike setting beside a lake with black swans. It was in one of these, the National Library that I set foot, hoping to see Cook’s journal from the Endeavour and read the account in his own hand of being reef wrecked at Cape Tribulation where I had been six months earlier. But it was not to be, the journal is there but not accessible to the general public. I had to make do with a plasticised and incomplete facsimile. As I was leaving I expressed my disappointment to the librarian who told me that they had some Cook originals that were available for perusal. And it turned out that they were earlier journals from his 1762 visit to Atlantic Canada when he was a mere Lieutenant. So there I was reading his account of Halifax Harbour, Sambro, Canso, Cape Breton, Placentia, Bay of Bulls, Cape Broyle. It was thrilling and will add to my appreciation of future explorations in these places whether on foot or in a kayak. I realised I was ready and eager to get home.
There was also a pencilled note on tides on a slip of paper on the back of which was a request to Cook from a Mr Caddy to bring 2 quintals of fish home from St John’s “if he has room enough without pushing his people to an inconvenience” This was dated 1765 and was a recent acquisition from an antiquarian bookseller in London.

My last stop was at Cook’s Landing, a national park on Botany Bay. Botany Bay is south of Sydney and is the site of Sydney’s airport, an oil refinery and various other industrial installations. But the landing site is a delightful park with an interpretive trail which includes an acknowledgement to the Aborigines who consider this event to have been the beginning of the end for them. And of course there are monuments to Cook, Banks and Solander, the latter being recognised through the efforts of a group of Swedish Australians at a much later date than the Cook and Banks memorabilia. And there is a grave of an Endeavour sailor who died while the ship was anchored in Botany Bay.

Time to leave with memories galore on many levels, but it is the flora of both Australia and New Zealand that are etched forever on both my visual and olfactory memory.

Abel Tasman

Abel Tasman is as renowned in Australasian history as James Cook, but he never set foot in this area of north west South Island known as the Abel Tasman . Much of it is a National Park thanks to the vision and effort of Perrine Moncrieff, a well heeled Brit whom came to NZ in 1921, settled in Nelson and bought land on the shores of Tasman Bay. She was a passionate conservationist and ornithologist. In the early 1940s there was development talk, you know the sort of thing, let’s cut down the trees and put in a coast road. Moncrieff rallied the local population, few of whom were in favour of the “development” and her efforts resulted in the creation of a NP in 1942, the anniversary of Abel Tasman’s first landing in NZ
The land in the park has remained as it was in 1940, there are hardly any roads and the pre-existing communities on the shore are primarily cottages accessible only by boat and powered originally with diesel fuel but now mostly solar and bottled gas. The Abel Tasman track runs north along the coast from Marahau. Transport is by water taxi or private boats, all of which are designed to land on beaches. The park is visited by kayakers and hikers year round. Kayak outfitters operate 8 months of the the year and water taxis year round. Accomodation is in backcountry campgrounds and huts. There is one luxury lodge.

It has the look and feel of a tropical paradise, beautiful beaches, turquoise water and the tropical look of tree ferns and cabbage palms, though it is actually quite a temperate but very sunny climate.

I was in the Abel Tasman for 5 days, spent one day walking on the Abel Tasman track and three kayaking with a group from Totaranui in the north back to Marahau. It was superb, we even rafted up the kayaks and sailed on three occasions, saw fur seals close up, the adults always sleeping, the pups playing in pools. We paddled with blue penguins as curious companions and the everpresent pied cormorants.

Belated post as all this happened 3 weeks ago

Pedaling the Otago Rail Trail

Railway lines converted to cycling and walking trails are becoming a global phenomenon. I have cycled many of them in eastern Canada, so know what to expect, or at least I think I do. I was eager to travel New Zealand’s first rail trail the Otago from Middlemarch to Clyde on South Island. Lonely Planet has billed it as one of the world’s top ten cycle trips along with the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton.
The railway from Dunedin to Clyde was built around the turn of the last century, not the most recent. Although it was completed long after the boom gold rush days of Central Otago, it transported wool, livestock, fruit and passengers for many decades. Its demise began when the government lifted a ban on truck transportation for distances of over 48 kilometers. Use declined during the 70s and 80s with the last section closing in 1990. Already questions had arisen about its future use and as in PEI there were moves to return it to the landowners along the route but public opinion and initiative prevailed and converted it to a cycle trail, Over a period of a few years, the rails and sleepers were lifted, repairs to bridges and tunnels effected and the surface converted, but more on the surface later. It was opened in 2000 in collaboration with the Department of Conservation (equivalent of Parks Canada) and the Otago Rail Trail Trust.
I have always thought that rail trails are a good idea but they do have their downsides, monotony being one. On the Otago that is not a problem, the scenery is spectacular, sometimes distant, sometimes up close but never boring. The Trail is 150 kms and is cycled by keeners in 1 or 2 days but I opted for five leisurely days stopping to absorb the surroundings and the bountiful information about the landscape and history which is found frequently along the trail in shelters.
I started my journey with a 65 km train ride from Dunedin to Middlemarch, this is the only part of the railway still in operation and it is essentially a tourist train through the very scenic Taieri Gorge. At Middlemarch I stepped off the train and walked across the road to pick up my bicycle, paniers and a helmet, leaving the rest of my luggage with the bike rental company for transport to my destination Clyde Then I set off up the wide Strath Taieri Valley with mountain ranges on each side, through pastures with multitudes of sheep. It has been very dry for months so most of the landscape is brown but here and there patches of green from irrigation. Towards Hyde, the valley narrows and the trail becomes rougher, a slight incline, a stony surface and a wind from the north made for challenging pedalling and I was happy to arrive at the Edgewater Guest House right beside the trail 28 kms north of Middlemarch. Dinner bed and breakfast and some good conversation mostly about sheep farming, water rights and the ecological footprints of livestock farming in NZ versus other countries. My hosts had 4000 sheep on hill pastures and a “few” cattle, I didn’t ask how many as I have learned that “few” means less than a thousand.
On day two I woke to rain which quickly cleared and a cool southerly breeze propelled me through Hyde into the Upper Taieri Gorge and onto the vast Maniototo Plain, locally referred to as big sky country The mountain ranges still in evidence but more distant. The trail again became challenging on account of the surface which really is very variable, I tried a road detour to avoid stones but ended up taking a wrong turn and having to backtrack to the hamlet of Kokonga. The Maniototo is etched in New Zealanders minds by realist painter Grahame Sydney whose renderings of the landscape, buildings, fences and mailboxes are reminiscent of Alex Colville’s paintings of Atlantic Canada. The temperature dropped during the day and I needed my fleece, windbreaker and gloves for the last hour of pedaling. I arrived in the art deco village of Ranfurly for my second night at a basic but comfortable backpackers but discovered to my dismay that the only ATM in town was out of cash.
On day three I crossed the rest of the Maniototo through Wedderburn with its delightful rest spot and honesty cafe. I helped myself to a ginger beer from the cooler, popped money in the honesty box and watched a video about the trail and learned about Merinos and Merino crosses and the kinds of fleece they produce. Then there was a bit of a slog up to the highest point of the trail at 618m, very close to the 45 degree S latitude marker and with a grand view of the Mount Ida range. Clouds threatened most of the day but made for very beautiful skies and I so enjoyed coasting downhill to Oteruhua where I stayed in a delightful cabin, watched the sunset and had lamb shank and a local Pinot Noir for dinner. Oteruhua has a general store which combines contemporary retail with its 1900s village store interior.

It was cool, (6C) when I awoke and set off for what turned out to be the most spectacular day along the Ida Valley then through the Poolburn Gorge, two tunnels and across several viaducts and past thousands of sheep, mostly merinos. This is wool country. At lunch in the Lauder Hotel I met three Winnipegers who were doing the trail in two days. In the afternoon the descent continued and I took road detour into Ophir a former gold mining town with some beautiful historic buildings and reputedly New Zealand’s most extreme temperatures. The end of the afternoon saw me coasting down the steepest incline of the trail to Chatto Creek Tavern, my haven for the night and a meal of blue cod in the company of fellow cyclists The local “southern men” propping up the bar were bemoaning the fact that their favourite TV host has come out as a lesbian and they were going to have to adjust their fantasies. The scenery here was reminiscent of the foothills in Alberta and the ranges have been described to be as “rumpled as a bunkhouse blanket”
The final day dawned cold and bright as I pedalled into Alexandra, the country changing from hills to orchards and vineyards in the Manuherikia valley. Time to sample some of the local wines and finish up the trip at Clyde, a charming village where I stayed at the Hartley Arms backpackers, brushing against a large lavender bush en route to my hollyhock festooned room.

Yes it is one of the world’s great cycle trips, especially the scenery and the services en route and for planning the trip. I could not have imagined doing it on my hybrid; the bike I rented was a mountain with really stubby tires and front suspension since the surface is less than perfect. At best it is OK, a reasonably fine gravel which thousands of cyclists have worn to quite a smooth path, but in other places there are larger pebbles and sometimes deep gravel. Commenting on this to cyclists I met, they agreed and said let the Otago Rail Trail Trust know, apparently some sections have already been improved. Most people were using mountain bikes but I met people on hybrids, a couple of folding bikes and a recliner. The trail has also been cycled on a tricycle and every year there is a nudist cycle ride. I only met one person on foot and no horses but perhaps 200 or more cyclists over the days I was on the trail. Most of them were Kiwis, a few Brits, Aussies Canadians, Swiss and Germans. The Otago Rail Trail Trust has an excellent website at http://www.otagorailtrail.co.nz/ I made all my decisions and bookings based on information they provide or I could have just handed the whole planning process over to one of a number of companies but as some of you know, I like being my own travel agent.

Now for three days on one of the world’s great walks, The Routeburn Track

Of Glaciers and Fiords

The south west part of South Island is one of the highest rainfall areas on the planet, which explains why the glaciers are advancing rather than retreating. Yes, the melt is happening but the tops of the glaciers are re-loaded with snow to such an extent that in the past decade they have advanced They are also very dynamic glaciers, I witnessed an icefall from the face on the day I went to the Fox Glacier. There are warnings everywhere but a few people have been killed at Fox in the past few years. As our guide said, they were male, Australian and ignored the signs. Flying over and around Mt Cook was an amazing experience, ice and snow and rock everywhere and falling away on every side a newly minted glacial landscape. And the walk on the glacier was a personal achievement. Ice never was my medium but even less so since the ankle break just over a year ago. The crampons were amazing, I will be welded to my YakTrax next winter in PEI.

After the glaciers I drove east over the Haas pass to Wanaka which is in a rainshadow on the east side of the Alps, bare hills fewer trees and grand vistas then on to Te Anau which was my base for exploring the “Sounds” as they are called, fiords on the south west coast of New Zealand. I drove in a leisurely fashion to Milford Sound stopping to explore the various trails along the way. I walked through southern beech forests and up to the spectacular Marion Falls then through into an alpine landscape before entering the Homer Tunnel to descend to Milford Sound where I boarded a late afternoon cruise on Milford Sound, it was a beautiful clear day and Milford is as all the photos suggest exquisitely beautiful with its hanging valleys, waterfalls, seals, dolphins and the iconic Mitre Peak.

But it was Doubtful Sound and the Tasman Sea that really captured me, at times I was moved to tears. It was so beautiful and so evocative of a time long gone when European explorers ventured to what was then the end of the earth. We sailed into quiet arms, swam in waters rich with plankton and took a small boat ride close to the shore to marvel at the moss gardens and the trees clinging onto rocks. I saw dolphins playing and a large colony of seals with their pups. Then as the sun was setting we sailed out into the Tasman Sea and saw shearwaters, Royal Albatross and mollymawks, and as we turned back into the sound, I imagined myself on the deck of the Endeavour. I heard the aristocratic Banks urging the pragmatic Cook to sail into the sound as it looked like a fine place for botanising, but Cook, reading the waters and the topography, thought it too risky and sailed on, leaving the name, Doubtful Harbour.
Our nature guide, Wattsie, was a mine of information and stories of this place. He was particularly fond of explaining misnomers, such as calling a fiord a sound and a sealion a seal . And he was very excited by the intricacies and idiosyncracies of the glacial landscape. All this was wound into the Maori mytholgy of what we were experiencing.

After a fine dinner and some South Island Pinot Noir we gazed at the night sky, I’m getting used to seeing Orion upside down. I slept well in a cosy cabin and awoke before dawn to witness the morning sky at the top of the sound. After breakfast and before returning to land, we spent an utterly silent fifteen minutes at the top of one of the arms under towering cliffs, no waterfalls, no birds singing, no wind, it was completely primeval.

As the morning rolled on I really didn’t want to return to shore, just as I had been reluctant to leave the Tarkine Wilderness in Tasmania. It was particularly shocking since when waiting for the ferry transfer to Manapouri I suffered my first attack of sandflies, didn’t seem like much at first but I was left with a very irritating four day itch around the feet and ankles.

Land of the Long White Cloud - Aotearoa

Adventures in North Island

The Maori name , Aotearoa, is apt. Most days there is a band of cloud along the mountainous spine of New Zealand, sometimes it is grey and envelops the ranges and at other times it is white and just caresses the peaks. This country is exotic in all senses of the word, The land ranges from fertile plains through velvety green hills to snow capped mountains, volcanoes, boiling mud pools , colourful steaming lakes, pristine sandy beaches with massive surf and shelving shingle beaches lashed by huge waves.
It is blessed with fertile soil and months of weather conducive to the growth of plants both native and introduced from most parts of the world. Many species grow much faster and larger than they do in their native habitat. This has been a boon to the fibre industry who can grow a radiata pine to maturity in 25 years instead of 75 in western North America. It is also perfect for plant collectors, beautiful specimen trees from Europe, Asia and America adorn gardens and parks. At the Eastwoodhill Arboretum I saw a 93 year old Red Oak, PEI’s provincial tree symbol. It was significantly larger than the 200 year old specimens growing in Charlottetown And then there is the stunning native Pohutakawa, which ranges from shrub to massive multitrunked tree, covered in crimson flowers at this time of the year and growing along the coast.

These conditions have meant that the native forest is hard to find. For example ninety percent of the kahikatea were felled to make butterboxes for shipping to the UK. Where native species are regenerating, they are browsed by possums and rats. Special efforts are needed to restore native vegetation. There are several conservation projects underway, one is in a valley in the middle of Wellington, others are on off shore Islands like Kapiti (Entry Island) in Cook Strait. The Island was cleared for sheep farming but is now regenerating thanks to the efforts of the department of Conservation and Maori landowners. I walked through Kanuka forests humming with a million bees where sheep had grazed 40 years ago. Eco-tourism and kanuka honey are the main activities now. Possums and rats have been completely eliminated.
There are some notable developments in commercial land use. Since the elimination of farming subsidies 20 years ago, there has been a dramatic reduction in the number of sheep and cattle, Many farmers planted trees, vineyards, kiwi and other fruits. Plantations can also provide income to their owners as carbon credits if they are not cut.
However NZ is still a land of sheep and cattle. Huge dairy herds and flocks of sheep graze in small paddocks on the lowlands and wandering freely in lesser numbers on the poorer hiller land. Tunnels under many but the most minor of roads allow for movement of stock.

New Zealand is also notable in that its first nations, the Maori are much less brutalised by European settlement. The reasons for this are complex and don’t exonerate the European settlers who were frequently very destructive to Maori their land and way of life. But they have survived and are much closer to being equal partners in modern New Zealand than first nations in Canada and aborigines in Australia. The Treaty of Waitangi is the underlying constitutional document and although it has its ambiguities and has not always been respected, it is a living document which is constantly under review for improvement. NZ has maintained many Maori place names and nearly all the native plants are known by their Maori names rather than an English one. I am being coached in Maori pronunciation by Kiwis of many origins. In Paihia, I met a Maori family, paddled their canoe (a waka) and was given a traditional Maori welcome. Hone, the waka chief (not captain) gave us a spirited and animistic tour through the Maori worldview. Kiwis as a whole are a friendly lot, much given to extreme adventures such as canyoning, skydiving, bungee jumping and paragliding. And they poke very good natured fun at the Aussies, while trying to eliminate their least favourite Aussie import, the possum.

My travels on North Island took me to me along Ninety Mile beach to Cape Reinga where the Pacific meets the Tasman Sea, to Waipu, a town built by Scottish settlers from Cape Breton, to sulphurous Rotorua the most active thermal area in NZ, and to remote East Cape This the only place where I have encountered that iconic image of NZ, sheep and cattle travelling along the roads. Elsewhere they are using tunnels under the roads. Gisborne on Poverty Bay was Cook’s first landfall in NZ and a must see for me before going on to Napier, a charming Art Deco town on the east coast. It was destroyed by an earthquake in 1931 and rebuilt very quickly and thoughtfully at a time when the rest of the world was languishing in the depression. There are fine art deco buildings throughout the centre of town in the industrial port area and an art deco residential neighbourhood. Naper cherishes and markets this architectural treasure. Finally I spent a few days in Wellington, the capital, a city built on hills and inlets, learning a lot about NZ history, natural and human, visiting Katherine Mansfield’s birthplace and doing a night walk in an urban bird sanctuary.

So now it is time to cross Cook Strait and explore the South Island.