I am tempted to let the pictures do the talking because if ever there was a country that truly befitted that statement - New Zealand is it. But now that I've gotten quite used to the idea of writing my own quirky interpretations of the scenes out the windscreen, I can't quite bring myself to leave well enough - and stunning scenery - alone. Let's just say, in another appropriate cliche, that words cannot describe the things we saw today.
Heading west from Christchurch we were quickly driving in the shadows of the Southern Alps. While the view in the distance was incredible, I was fixated on my more immediate surroundings. The Sheffield Pie shop adverstised some of the best pies in the country and so, quite happily, after only an hour and a bit of driving, we stopped for pies. Back in the van and accompanied by the warm and wonderful waft of a chicken vegetable country pie we once again put our heads down for the hills.
Just before a place called Castle Hill Village we came upon on a very unique rock outcropping. Well, they were more like boulders really, but the size of houses and apartment buildings. They were all stacked and scattered about as if some magic giant had simply emptied them from his enormous pocket. From a distance they didn't look like much, but when you placed a human beside one, the scale of their size and the surrounding hills was chin-dropping. The maori name is Kura Tawhiti and having never seen anything quite like them in my life, it was easy to see how this place could take on an sort of mystical importance. The kids seemed to pick up on the mystery of the place and didn't want to leave.
Soon after our clamber in Castle Hill we were climbing over a very rainy Arthur's Pass in the middle of the Southern Alps. Prior to the actual pass we spent a long time following what seemed to be an ancient flood plain as it flowed through an endless series of bordering peaks. This was my first sense of the place as it looks in Lord of the Rings. Once in the actual pass, it reminded us of Roger's or Crowsnest Pass in the rockies with steep cliffs, deep valleys and roads and bridges inexplicably stuck to the sides of it all. Unfazed by the constant switchbacks, slick road and one particular corner called Death's Turn - or something like that - we slipped out the other end of this impressive drive keen to find some lunch.
Unfortunately, for our stomachs anyway, we were in the middle of nowhere. The first few villages we came across were grey and uninviting with "hotels" that looked like the kind of place the Eagles were singing about - "You can check out anytime you like, but you may never leave". So we pushed on - finally coming to a halt outside a vacant looking milk bar run by a bit of a vacant looking local in a place called Kumara. She was quite nice actually, though the way she looked at us you would have thought we had just flown in from the moon. However, her fryers were shut down and with no more than a few crisps and lollies on offer we were forced to move on again. A few short klics down the road, we saddled up to a very good lunch, all things considered, in another very vacant but decidedly more friendly-looking roadhouse - the highlight of which was the kids platter pictured. Yum! And so good for you, too! I didn't know whether to have the Chips and chips or the Chips with a small side of chips.
Back on the road with bellies bursting, we turned onto Highway 6 and began the Southwest run along the coast toward Franz Josef. We still had some serious ground to cover but with the Tasman Sea now outside our starboard window, we had a different type of gorgeous scenery at which to gander. Throughout the trip I was struck several times by the quality of the air in this country. There is a smell to it that reminded me of walking in the forests of BC. It's a moist, rich smell that I can only describe as air that smells full of fresh, new life. It's one of the best and cleanest smells in the world. Perhaps as a direct complement to that observation, is the fact that we saw so few people, anywhere. As we passed hour after hour without seeing much more than a few sheep and the odd caravan, the more mundane of thoughts that continued to play about in my head was "Where would you buy groceries?"
As night began to fall I nudged the van through the pelting rain and on into the village of Franz Josef. We were here to see a glacier but with rain that was descending in unrelenting, almost deafening torrents, we would be lucky if our van didn't simply float away. However, the glacier and the floods would have to wait for tomorrow; for the rest of this night would be spent with family, good food and a wickedly fun hot tub before bed. Despite the day's turn at communing with this remote and rugged country, we were still quite content to bask in a few of our favourite creature comforts like good wine and warm, pulsating water!
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