Kia ora Dawn - a postscript

Since returning home the last few weeks have been a blur of jet lag (washing clothes at 2am in the morning), Christmas family commitments and food comas. In fairness to Air New Zealand however, it deserves to be said that they honoured their commitment to compensate us for all the hassle with our flights. So perhaps, maybe, in a tiny way, they have recovered themselves in my esteem (a bit).

Kia ora!

Home

It is raining and cold when we leave at 6:15am. The hotel is so new that the walkway linking it to the airport terminal is still under construction so we must dash across the forecourt with our suitcases in the rain. 

****

A few hours later in transit in Auckland, we get our last taste of coolness as we walk between the domestic and international terminals. One last moment of 17°C before seven hours of screen time and we emerge into blinding sunshine and the heat of a Perth afternoon.

Last stop

We wake up to a rather dark, misty and wet morning. Everyone else is still asleep but Rob has breakfast set up for us at 7am in the kitchen downstairs and keeps us company while we eat. He entertains us with more fascinating tales about his life and encourages Ross to consider buying the castle (yes it's been for sale for nearly 2 years) ... er, not that we have several spare millions lying around.

Rob is a gentleman to the end and holds an umbrella to escort us to our car when we leave. I give him a hug and wish him a Merry Christmas which seems to take him by surprise. He is almost a little dazed at being touched and mumbles that he had forgotten it is Christmas next week. We drive away from Castle Claremont in the pouring rain, and look back to see Rob still waving to us from the driveway before walking back into the house - shoulders slumped, face set and ever so slightly diminished. 

*****

Apart from a very soggy stop for coffee in Ashburton, it is a straight run on the highway back to Christchurch. Ross navigates the heavy rain, spray and poor visibility on the roads for 2.5 hours. Thankfully the highway has been reopened after the floods last week and we pass by the major earthworks to shore up the Rangitata River. Of course once we reach Christchurch and drop off the hire car by the airport, the rain starts to ease. 

It is only late morning but we check-in to the Novotel Christchurch Airport anyway, and we're thrilled to be spending our last night in New Zealand in some luxury. The hotel only opened a few weeks ago and from behind triple glazed glass, we can see the runway.

A very modern and comfortable room

The view from our window - Air New Zealand has planes in action so that's a good sign for the morrow!

We sit by the window mesmerised just watching the planes as we finish the last of our lunch provisions. It isn't raining any more but it looks gloomy outside and is very cold (only 15°C). We watch as some newly arrived visitors battle the gusty winds on the airport concourse below and struggle to load their suitcases onto a bus. A man loses his hat which bolts and tumbles away from his grasp and is blown across the road beneath a parked car.  

Ross and I decide to stay in the warmth and comfort of our room and spend the afternoon reading and watching movies instead! At dinner time, we go upstairs to the hotel restaurant, which is still so beautifully new and also has sweeping views of the airport runway. Wow! The food is great and I am so happy that there is Asian food on the menu that I could jump up and dance. Ross enjoys his last slab of NZ fish and I revel in some oh-so-welcome tofu and rice. 

With that, we conclude our holiday and retreat to our room for some sleep and an early start tomorrow for the long journey home.

Starting our journey home

Ever the accommodating hosts, Brian and Jan have breakfast ready for us early so that we can start our journey north. This has been our first experience of truly "hosted" accommodation - where we share common living areas of the house and meals with our hosts - and it has been like spending a night with family. We enjoy home-baked bread for breakfast which seems to embody our hosts' entire approach to caring for their guests:

"You're part of us for the night"

Our hosts are kind and knowledgeable about so many things: the local area where they have lived for decades, the South Island where they have worked for many years including as volunteers in wilderness areas, and beyond that to global politics, science and popular culture. From their tiny seaside hamlet in a remote corner of New Zealand, they've managed to survive with only one TV, a basic internet connection and forego expensive trips overseas... because The World comes to them.

Soon we are on our way and the rich green carpet rolls out more bucolic scenes for the 1.5 hour journey to Dunedin. 

On the road to Dunedin

Our lovely hosts in Invercargill had recommended a visit to Olveston House when we passed through Dunedin again so that is where we go, and manage to just squeak in to the 10:45am tour of the house. Photographs are not permitted inside and it is only possible to visit when on a guided tour. Once indoors it's clear why as the interior is immaculate and most of the furniture, art and artefacts are original. The house is a time capsule bequeathed to the City of Dunedin in the 1960s by Dorothy Theomin, the last surviving member of the Theomin family. Her father had been a wealthy Jewish businessman who made his fortune on the sale of pianos and sheet music. The house was specially designed and built in 1906, with many of the materials (wood, glass) transported over from the UK. It offers a fascinating insight into the upstairs/downstairs world of a well-to-do household down to the silverware in the butler's pantry and bells in each of the upstairs rooms for summoning the servants. Even the original 1920s Fiat is parked in the garage after it was painstakingly tracked down, repurchased and restored over 2 years in Christchurch.

The grand facade of Olveston House

Olveston House

This is the sort of greenhouse I dream about - benches covered with beautiful plants and flowers...

...including many varieties of fuchsia 

The historic house is very close to the city centre so we return to our 'favourite' Dunedin haunt for lunch - the Art Gallery cafe. It is then a long drive to Timaru so after a while I take the wheel for the next 2 hours. The sat nav takes us off the main highway when we're still some way out of Timaru and we travel along a quiet rural road for kilometre after kilometre. As the road gets narrower and the countryside even wilder, we start to wonder if we have the right place at all when we finally spot the sign for Castle Claremont. 

This morning's sunshine has given way to a gloomy, overcast afternoon and the air is heavy. So it feels quite eerie to make our way along the seemingly endless driveway that snakes its way uphill through thick bush. When we do finally emerge into a clearing at the top of the hill, we spot a very handsome granite mansion. 

It is hard not to be impressed when the house finally appears 

Having visited an exquisite historic house this morning, we are now spending the night in another. Castle Claremont is over 130 years old and built from granite quarried on site. Commissioned by a settler family, it took stonemasons and carpenters from England three years to construct. The house was leased to the Crown for a time and was once home to Lord Ranfurly, a former Governor of New Zealand. The present owner, and our host for the evening, Rob is a smartly dressed gentleman who meets our car and takes us around the house on an impromptu tour. Rob has poured his life and finances into restoring this house. The interior is grand and sympathetic to the heritage significance of this place. So many rooms(!) with beautiful antique furniture and art - a study, billiards room, large reception rooms and a dining room used for conferences. Ross is in his element! The grounds are extensive too with well-manicured lawns near the house, and there is even a chapel that is rented out for weddings sometimes. 

The entrance hall and main staircase

Upstairs is similarly magnificent and our suite for the evening is ridiculously large for just the two of us. Rob invites us to settle in and then come downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of tea. We meet Sally and Marion (a couple of retirees from Christchurch), and a German student, who are all volunteers assisting Rob with the garden and other odd jobs in exchange for a few days' accommodation. Sally is something of a snooker player and even carries her own cue and so Ross hastily arranges a game. 

Upstairs landing

Upstairs landing

Our enormous room, with a suitably enormous bathroom attached

The pretty chapel next to the house

Chapel interior

Sally fetches her cue from the car and the game is on... 

Ross in action

With great concentration and skill, Ross conducts himself admirably. After the last ball is sunk, Ross and I get back in the car and rely on Rob's hand-drawn mudmap to navigate the  15 minute drive to Timaru. At Bay Hill we find a casual bar and restaurant that serves up  delicious fish and roasted vegetables.

When we return to the house, everyone is seated around the fireplace enjoying some warmth and a cup of tea, and so we join in the conversation. The ladies are lovely and talk openly about their lives in Christchurch, including harrowing stories of the day 9 years ago when the big earthquake came and changed everything. Rob is a masterful raconteur and regales us with tales of his peripatetic life in Australia and New Zealand. He is a self-described 'Toad of Toad Hall' who hankers for new things and experiences. Castle Claremont was one of his whims but has lately become more of a yoke around his neck. Behind the flashy tales of Buicks bought and sold for profit, country towns and undertakers, there is a great weariness. He tries not to laugh as it triggers coughing fits and he seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He tells us that but for the volunteers, he pretty much looks after this place on his own which is astonishing. In the long winter months he lives in the kitchen and a few rooms that are kept heated, with only his dogs for company.

Day 2 in the Catlins

At 5am I wake up to an almost deafening chorus of amazing birdsong. It's layer upon layer of complex melodies and continues until it becomes muffled by heavy rain. After navigating the tiny bathroom and microscopic washbasin to get ourselves ready, we wander over to the dining room for breakfast where, to our surprise, we meet two couples from Europe. We had no idea that there were other guests staying in the house, it is deceptively large. 

Warren, our host, encourages us to go to the Cathedral Cave when it opens this morning at low tide. My stomach is rebelling and the weather is terrible so I'm not keen, but it's our only opportunity. We take our leave after breakfast and sprint to the car with our suitcases as we try to dodge the heavy rain. It is no better once we arrive at the cave car park so we don our raincoats, take a deep breath, and head out into the elements. Fortunately the first part of the walk is quite sheltered as we hike downhill through dense forest. Emerging onto the beach we then cross a large expanse of open sand, following the tracks of other visitors, to reach the cave entrance.

The forest walk down to Cathedral Cave

It is very wet...and cold!

Crossing the sand at low tide

The cave is 199m in total passage length, making it one of the 30 longest known sea caves in the world. Unlike limestone caves which are hollowed out by water chemically dissolving calcite in the rock, sea caves are purely the result of brute force. Cathedral Cave was formed by the sea exploiting naturally occurring fractures in the sandstone until a cavern was formed by the relentless hammering of waves over thousands of years. This morning the yawning entrance of the cave is guarded by a deep pool of water and so visitors clamber over slippery wet rocks to get past. I choose to stay outside in the rain and admire the grand entrance while Ross joins the others and soon disappears into the inky blackness. After a few minutes he emerges from a different exit in the cliff face, having walked to the back of the cave where it joins with another. 

The lofty arch marking the entrance to Cathedral Cave

Now for the trek back across the beach and up the steep hill to the car. Unlike some clever Chinese tourists who have raincoats and umbrellas, our flimsy raincoats are decidedly sodden and getting wetter by the minute. We strike a brisk pace and soon Ross is powering up the hill in what becomes an epic unbroken sprint through the forest. We reach the car, lungs bursting and gasping for air, and very, very wet. It takes us a while to catch our breath and recover sufficiently to take to the road again. The small town of Owaka is our first stop for coffee and an opportunity to get indoors out of the rain. It's also a big enough town to have a supermarket and so we stock up on some lunch provisions before pressing on for another 20 minutes to Kaka Point.

Kaka Point is a seaside hamlet with homes cascading down the gentle slopes to the sea, much like Gracetown in WA. Now that the car's sat nav is working(!) we locate our accommodation at Catlins Gallery with ease. It is pouring with rain when we reach the house and knock on the door ... but there is no answer. We walk around to the front and see a covered deck with some laundry hanging up to "dry" - in this weather?! As we approach the glass balcony doors we spot the occupants. What must they think of us - boots muddy from the morning's walk, raincoats askew and looking like a pair of drowned rats. When they see us, our hosts Brian and Jan hurriedly greet us. Jan directs us to another entrance where we can unload our bags and then we're invited to hang our raincoats out to dry in the warm lounge room and join them at the table for a cup of tea. We bring our food with us and end up sharing lunch with this most amiable of couples. 

The rain is not letting up but our hosts suggest that if nothing else, we must try and visit nearby Nugget Point lighthouse while we're in these parts. They lend us some umbrellas and we set off. On Brian's recommendation, we stop briefly along the esplanade to book a table for tonight at the local restaurant. I get absolutely drenched just walking from the car to the restaurant and back. By the time Ross and I reach the Nugget Point car park 10 minutes later, the rain and wind are fierce. Despite having umbrellas, we are absolutely soaked after walking only a few metres. We reach the trailhead, look at each other and say "nope" before retreating to the car. Slightly crestfallen, we return to our accommodation for another cup of tea and more friendly conversation with our hosts. Jan is an artist and shows me the watercolour paintings of NZ landscapes in the downstairs gallery. She is also a keen gardener (a kindred spirit!) and proudly points out nearly every plant in the garden, which we can now wander around as the rain tapers off to a drizzle. 

At dinnertime, we take leave of our hosts and return to the esplanade for another meal of delicious NZ fish and then decide to try our luck at Nugget Point again. This time our efforts are rewarded. By the time we get there at 7:30pm, the rain has stopped and the setting sun casts a golden glow over the spectacular coastline. We even spot some fur seals far below!

Looking back towards Kaka Point

Nugget Point Lighthouse

Approaching Nugget Point

Sunset over the wild Catlins coast

The Nuggets

We would never have been able to walk the exposed sections of the track this afternoon so I am glad we came back in the dry. When we do finally reach the old 1869 lighthouse after a 20 minute walk, the view below reveals the rocky coastline and boulders ("nuggets") that give this place its name. We return to our lodgings much happier (and drier!) and excitedly tell our hosts about Nugget Point, surrounded by comfort and the gorgeous smell of fresh bread that is baking away in readiness for our breakfast tomorrow.

Day 1 in the Catlins

In the morning we are treated to a delicious home-cooked breakfast by Diana's husband, Noel. They are a gregarious couple and talk openly to us about the lengthy renovation of the house, their family and travels. We're even given a special tour of the 'behind the curtain' parts of the house, and Noel pulls out some maps to show us places to visit in the Catlins where we are headed next.

We are sent on our way with hugs, full tummies, and contented hearts. As Ross drives us away from Invercargill, the buildings gradually become more sparse and are once again replaced by rich pasture and green fields. We take Noel's advice and leave the Southern Scenic Route for the coast road, which fortunately for us, was only recently completely sealed. In the glorious morning sunshine, we silently take in the gleaming landscape as it flitters past. 

Along the Southern Scenic Route south of Invercargill

Just some of New Zealand's approximately 27 million (happy fluffy white) sheep -
that's around 5 sheep per person

In one hour we reach Curio Bay and as luck would have it, we arrive at 11am to coincide with low tide. It means that we are treated to the sight of the petrified forest. It is apparently one of the best examples of a Jurassic fossilised forest in the world and we can clearly see fossilised timbers (a much more impressive stumpery than yesterday!) and pearlescent wood-grained materials embedded in the rock. 

Curio Bay

The petrified forest at Curio Bay - each "rock" is a fossilised tree stump

The eternal glimmering remnants of a tree that once stood here millions of years ago
when dinosaurs roamed the Earth

Curio Bay is also renowned for being the nesting site for rare Yellow-Eyed Penguins (Hoihos) and if we were prepared to wait around all day, we might see the little birds in the evening as they come back into shore. We're not here at the right time to see penguins however... or are we....

Is this a penguin?

And while nearby Slope Point can claim to be the southernmost point of the South Island, for me and Ross this is the furthest south on the globe that we have ever been. 

Resuming our journey along the beautiful coastline, we stop for coffee at the Niagara Falls Cafe before rejoining the highway for a short distance to Progress Valley. Our next accommodation is down a winding gravel road that passes through hectares of eucalypt plantation. It is interesting that those logs we saw being transported on lorries to Port Chalmers continue to be a recurring theme ... now we can see where they might have started their journey.

When we arrive at the Catlins Farmstay, we're greeted by our hosts Warren and Jackie. It's a big family home which they share with their young boys and Warren's parents who are visiting from Queensland. The house is surrounded by magnificent gardens and fringed by the ghostly thin trunks of eucalypts ... trees that Warren tells us are destined to be pulped for paper in Japan but will hopefully remain unharvested for some time.

The green oasis of the Catlins 

The view from our room of the garden and plantation beyond

For now, this remote little corner of the world is like an oasis, bursting with rich greenery, colourful flowers, and a million birds that chirp and whistle and serenade before vanishing into the shadows of the sentinel gums. 

Warren shows us to our room at the far end of the house. Compared to last night's luxury accommodation, this is very basic. There are no amenities in our room and the ensuite bathroom is so compact that you can touch both walls simply by exhaling. But it will do. 

After a rest and a stroll around the grounds, we make our way to McLeans Falls, purportedly the most beautiful of the Catlins waterfalls. There is a 40 minute return walk to the falls along a forested path. It is a magical walk past giant tree ferns, moss-draped trunks and curtains of epiphytes that hang down from branches. And the sound of water that gets louder and louder until the waterfall appears.

The magical forest

Tree trunks draped in thick moss

Surrounded by green

Ross at McLeans Falls

It is still some time until dinner so we travel a little further along the highway to Lake Wilkie, the remnants of a glacial lake. The wind has dropped and the sky is becoming overcast. A stillness settles and the same dark glassy waters that have been watched by the sky for millennia continue to stare back at infinity.

Lake Wilkie 

As we turn back towards Progress Valley, we make one more stop at the Tautuku Estuary. Here a short walk through a forest that is recovering from last century's quest for timber brings us to a boardwalk constructed over a fragile wetland. Across the estuary are tantalising glimpses of Maori land, thick with pristine forest that escaped the loggers.  

Tautuku boardwalk

Tautuku estuary

Maori land across the water and its beautiful native forest

We are the only people here and as Ross rushes ahead to the viewing platform, I hear a little 'chik chik' sound that breaks the stillness. Fluttering weakly above the reeds is a small brown bird. I am captivated and watch it as it eventually flutters across the boardwalk and disappears into some fringing vegetation. Later I find out that it was a South Island fern bird (matata), a threatened native species that persists here in one of its last strongholds. It is usually heard but not seen and so I am incredibly grateful to have been graced with this small precious moment.

It is still only 4:30pm when we return to the car - way too early to go for dinner and yet we are both hungry. We make the short journey to the Whistling Frog Cafe and Bar and wait impatiently in the car until 5pm. At least it gives me the opportunity to finally figure out how the car's sat nav system works... several days into our journey! The cafe is pretty bogan but is one of the better eateries in these parts. Menu choices are limited to burgers and deep fried specials so I cross my fingers and hope that the non-FODMAP monstrosity that I ingest will not have terrible repercussions tomorrow (no such luck).

We are back in our room by 6pm and with no TV, there are books to read until tiredness descends, and only the sound of a million birds singing through the long twilight.

20 hours in Invercargill

The wind buffets our loft overnight and is even noisier than the squeaky bed. I have to get up at 1:30am to close windows. When we get up in the morning, the sky is threatening and unleashes the odd gusty shower. 

After breakfast we load up the car and leave Dunedin behind. It is a 2.5 hour drive to Invercargill and the idea is for Ross to drive until we stop for coffee when I can take over... but as the green hills dotted with sheep and cows continue to roll on by, we zip through a number of small dots on the map with a decided lack of suitable caffeine offerings. It is only once we reach the 'presidential' stretch of highway, having passed through Clinton, and finally arrived at Gore, that there is a suitably large main street with a choice of cafes. Caffeinated at last(!), Ross decides to plug on with the rest of the drive as we are nearly at Invercargill anyway.

Bleak skies and green landscapes along the road to Invercargill 

We head straight to Villa Rouge B+B to check-in and drop off our bags and we're met at the door by our host, Diana. She surprises me with a warm hug, offered in sympathy for our Australian compatriots killed in the recent White Island disaster. Diana is warm and earthy but has a commanding presence that belies her small stature, and she swiftly determines how much time we have in Invercargill and what we really need to see. She shows us around the house, books us a table at a nearby restaurant for dinner in the evening, and takes our breakfast orders for the next day. With that thunderclap of impressive efficiency, she leaves us to settle into our beautiful room. The house is decorated in a French provincial style - all bold colours, rich fabrics and plush furnishings. There are thoughtful touches everywhere and it feels homely. Christmas makes its presence felt in the little decorations in our room, even down to the shortbread and chocolate truffles left for us by the kettle.

Our comfortable room - with a quiet non-squeaky bed! - and the vintage bathroom (below)
including the toilet with old-fashioned pull chain flush

                   

The guest lounge with movie projector and DVDs, which was available for our use
but sadly we didn't avail ourselves of because there wasn't time

We don't stop for long as Ross is on a mission! We head straight out to Bill Richardson Transport World, an extraordinary automotive museum that has been assembled over a lifetime by one individual. It is an amazing collection of beautifully restored vehicles and other quirks including petrol pumps, themed bathrooms and a cafe. Ross is happy to browse the huge space but is disappointed that there are plenty of trucks and heavy vehicles but only a few cars. Motorcyles are kept offsite at another location but there is not enough time today to visit Motorcycle Mecca as well. Ah well, next time we're in Invercargill perhaps?!

The main floor (in one of 6 interconnected warehouses) pretty much houses the car collection

Browsing some of the restored trucks

A small sample of the extensive petrol pump collection that is on display

It is pouring with rain by the time we finish strolling around so we sit down in the cafe to wait out the heavy showers. The rain doesn't seem to be stopping but at least it slows to a consistent drizzle so we run to the car and make the short drive to the centre of Invercargill. The main drag does not look particularly exciting - it is all low-rise buildings and a bit Bunbury-ish, so we continue onto Queens Park. The park is classed as a Garden of National Significance and sprawls over 80 hectares in the centre of Invercargill. As well as playgrounds, a golf course and tennis courts, it boasts lots of different garden zones and kilometres of walking trails.

We park the car at one corner of Queens Park and don our raincoats so we can go for a walk. The benefit of the gloomy afternoon is that it seems we have the park mostly to ourselves. Our strolls take us past the Japanese Garden, rose garden, and another aviary, this one large enough to have a walk-through section which is convenient shelter when another heavy downpour comes. 

Japanese garden

Queens Park loveliness

The walk-through aviary

More exquisite flowers - of course!

We stop in the winter garden - a warm and humid glasshouse growing tropical species - and find the perfect water lily pond to remember a special Invercargill native who touched our lives and passed away only a few months ago.

Remembering our friend, Margot

From there, we venture into the "stumpery" as we are quite stumped as to what a stumpery might be. It is a collection of strange sculptures assembled from old tree stumps, all sharp, twisted, jagged edges and unfriendly. The forested paths are much more pleasant and we pass the landmark bandstand. From here Ross marches on to where he thinks the car is parked... only we pop out at the far northeastern corner of the park... when we have parked at the southwest entrance. So it means walking the full length of the park again, which adds another couple of kilometres. It is with some relief that we find our car, having done much more walking than we intended! 

Forested paths

The bandstand...which we pass 1, 2, 3 times on the quest to find our car...

And of course, just as we arrive back at our B+B to freshen up before dinner... the sun comes out. Agh! We are very tired but fortunately our restaurant is only a 5 minute drive away. Buster Crabb is an odd name but it commemorates the British spy who was the inspiration for James Bond. Just as intriguing is our missing booking. When we arrive the staff tell us that the restaurant is full tonight and despite our protestations to the contrary, they insist that they did not get a call from Diana. But after a couple of phone calls it becomes clear that the booking mistakenly went through to a sister restaurant quite some distance away. Our quiet desperation must sway them because the staff kindly fit us in. The restaurant and bar are buzzing. It's Friday night and there are large groups for graduations and Christmas parties. The service is seamless and the food is lovely. I have a whitebait omelette with its thousands of little eyes, and happiness for Ross is a local beer and a warming plate of NZ Blue Cod.

Blue cod at Buster Crabb