Rakiura

Whew... 2 weeks (and I think a certain few freshly returned folks will agree) is not nearly enough time to even make a dent in all there is to see here. So, after a night in Christchurch we turned right round and started the whole trip over again. We took care of a few lingering details in ChCh – mainly just the Sunday market at the arts center – and struck off south again. Our handy little DoC campsite book had a nice stopping point near the previously mentioned/visited Moreaki Boulders so we stayed the night at the mouth of __ Gorge (I'll find the name later). We were a tad bit surprised to find a about a dozen cows munching and defecating about the campsite, as DoC generally frowns upon the grazing of cattle in their nature reserves. Steve was quick to shed some light on the situation.

Steve pulled up asking if anyone had seen any cows. By this time, they had all scampered off up a trail which we explained to Steve and he drove off. He seemed just a grizzled 40 something farmer that we would never see again, but Steve came back to chat. Several times. Turns out Steve owns most the land in the gorge we were camping in – including the only house as he was proud to point out -- and keeps some cattle for a friend of his. Steve is probably the most spectacular version of a kiwi we have come across here. Imagine a Mr. Brian Pierce if he had been sitting out in the sun for 30 years or so then raided the free bin at the Goowill trailer. He talked to us about what happened to his cows then left. Then came back and talked about his life in the gorge and his car restoration hobby then left. Then came back and showed us pictures of the totaled Jag that he rebuilt and sold off as almost new having redone almost the whole car. He talked almost constantly with a hand rolled cigarette bouncing in his lips the entire time which he had to re-light 7 or 8 times. After about an hour of chatting he ended up inviting us to his house for a warm up (we decided it was best to not to take him up on the offer and keep him from turning too weird in our eyes). As he left his last question was “How old do you think my wife is?” The woman in question who we had briefly met earlier was this tiny little woman who I would ask for ID if I were a bouncer. We conservatively guessed 30, but Steve had hit the jackpot (and he knew it judging by the smirk on his face when he told us) with a 42 year-old woman who didn't look a day over 25.

I know I drone on about silly things, but it was quite the experience. Like we were really in New Zealand the country and not the theme park.

Now for what this post is actually supposed to be about! Rakiura. Stewart Island. The smaller bit off the southern tip of the South Island. We took the ferry over across the notoriously bumpy Foveaux Strait. Turns out I don't get sea sick and Lieschen does. HA! We got off the boat and started the track. And it rained. Hard. For a long time. I have never been so wet in my entire life. We reached the first hut in about 4 hours. There could have been a lot to see, but truth is I have no idea. My glasses fogged up instantly so I had to go without and all I could focus on was Lieschen's back. Lucky for us there was a woman that had decided not to leave the hut that day in the rain so we were greeted by a nice warm fire to dry ourselves and all our stuff (we never bothered to buy pack covers). We weren't the only miserable ones though. A family of 5 (11 y-o twin girls and 9 y-o boy) from Australia were there minutes ahead of us in the same state. The kids were definitely the highlight of the tramp. We had a blast playing cards and talking to them since we stayed in the same huts with them both nights. Of course by the time we all felt dry and warm, the rain stopped and a bit later another family waltzed in bone dry asking why all our stuff was so wet.

The second day was much nicer. A little windy, but dry with blue skies. We burned through the walk anyhow. I think it was probably just the thought of rain that kept the pace high, although we went inland across the island so there wasn't much to see. There was a nice overlook where you could see the whole of Patterson Inlet (the inhabited portion of Stewart Island). We took our 3 pictures from the track and moved on. That night was more fun meeting people from all over the world. Ex-pat couple from Indiana living in Auckland were really nice and provided some much needed adult conversation after chatting it up with the twin girls for most of the afternoon.

The third day, right before we left in a bit of a sprinkle, I remember thinking, “there's no way it could possibly rain more than it did the first day” ...

Long story short (would have been a good policy for this whole post) the Rakiura Track turned into the Rakiura River, which was knee deep in spots, complete with shin deep mud on the shoreline and we spent the night in a hotel.

Forth day on the island was back to nice weather. We caught a water taxi over to Ulva Island which after some monumental killing spree was declared rat free and opened up as a bird sanctuary. Lots of very pretty birds in very pretty bush with lots of goofy tourist toting binoculars and telephoto lenses. Best birds though were the albatross who paid a little visit to our water taxi and the ferry as we left Stewart Island later that evening.

We hope everybody returns to / remains in good health. I'm finishing this a couple weeks late from Melbourne so I hope everybody had the time they devoted to reading the ramble post, now I'm going to go eat ice cream and watch movies with Heather.