Kiwis and Fairy Bread

28 December 2023

I keep thinking it is June. Soaking in the sunlight through the open doors of Miranda, I even said to Mike how much I loved this June weather. He reminded me that it is still December. But we certainly have caught, to quote some lyrics by Jonathan Richmond, That Summer Feeling.

It was 8:30 when Mike and I woke up: the latest we have ever slept, perhaps. But considering we were star gazing until long past midnight it was not surprising. Mount Sefton was staring down on us in all its glory. The sun was bright. The sky a perfect Manchester City blue.

Maia and Dan joined us for tea and breakfast at our camp table. Mawaba’s brother Yousef waved to us as their pink bus pulled out, saying “See you in Queenstown!”. We sincerely hoped that would prove true.

We lingered in this spot. Mike took pictures of giant wild rabbis and local birds. Talk was of nature education, baking, world travel, our families, and great hikes. The connection amongst us four was strong. Our booking was for two nights. Mike and I could stay. And gaze up at the mountain. Walk the track again. Share another meal. But a steeper trail up the mountain was beconing Dan and Maia. And the idea of splitting up the long drive to Queenstown appealed to Mike very much. So with hugs and promises to keep in touch we very reluctantly left White Horse Hill Campground and our new friends. But the mountain had one last gift to give us. See the video attached.

One last time on the road along Lake Putaki lead us to The Lavender Farm. For five bucks you could borrow a parasol and a lavender flower wreath, walk into the gorgeous rows and rows of lavender and take an instragram-worthy photo. Instead, we opted for some ice cream, all of which featured Lavender. I was tempted to try the Honey Lavender sprinkled with Manuka bee pollen, but decided to split a cup of Blueberry Lavender with Mike. It was the best ice cream I have ever had! (Apparently they get that a lot). I went back for a second cup.

Meanwhile, Mike had struck up a conversation with Oscar, who was using a vintage Canon AE-1 film camera. He and his brother Arthur and friend Astrid, were New Zealanders on their way to hike The Hooker Valley Track. But they weren’t sure they would get a camping spot. Well we had a reservation for the night that we weren’t using. So we gave them the reservation number and told them to use the name of Parker. In return, they very kindly offered us a bar of Lavender Dark Chocolate. It is strong stuff! Lovely. Excellent quality. A rare treat.

Astrid, Arthur and Oscar, if you happened to come across this blog, we hope you enjoyed your time beneath the mountains at White Horse Hill as much as we did. Our very best to you in all of your life’s adventures to come!

Our next stop would be The Clay Cliffs, a slight detour to an apparently rare rock formation. Now on this trip I have been lulled to sleep by turbulence over the Pacific Ocean. I have held on with my toes and knitted through the insane curves that were State Highway 4 enroute to Himetangi. I have found the crossing of the Cook Straight far too smooth for my taste. I have laughed in the splash of the speed boat race that was the Able Tasman Water Taxi. And I have walked without hanging on to the railings of the over-loaded, swinging suspension bridges on the Hooker Valley Track. But NOTHING will induce me to ever again drive on the 3.5 kilometers that was the road to and from The Clay Cliffs.

Dirt. Dust. Gravel. Potholes. Horizontal grooves like those that keep you awake on the break down lanes of the Garden State Parkway. For three and half kilometers. It was so dusty I had to wear a mask in the car even while the recirculate button was on. It was so loud that I literally had to yell to Mike the distance and minutes we had left to our destination. It was so bumpy that I had to hold onto my seat while the movement and noise rattled my brain. Mike, as always, was unphased!

The cliffs were cool, really cool. Like delicate drip sand castles made by giants. The water carved this unique formation over millennia. The hot, sandfly ridden trail was mercifully short. BACK ALONG THE ROAD and we stopped to pay the requested $5.00 to maintain the road. It sure needed it!

We decided to have dinner in Wanaka, emphasis on the first syllable, a small city that many Kiwis, as well as Dan and Maia, had recommended to us. Like a small Queenstown, we were told. The wind was up on this lake front town and it was packed! I can see the appeal. We walked a bit along the shore and into town, had some fish and chips and continued on.

Near sundown we reached Bendigo, our Freedom Camping spot for the night. We got there just in time, spaces were filling up. The wind picked up as we watched new arrivals struggle to pitch their tent. Other campers gladly lent a hand. I was exhausted and went to bed early as Mike watched the lake birds swim and rain approach.

It was warm. A storm was approaching. Mike and I were falling asleep in our cozy van bed. And it was summer.

This summer feeling is gonna haunt me the rest of my life.