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Published: February 8th 2012
It’s our last full day in New Zealand and Kristy has arranged to meet up with a work contact from Christchurch. She met him at a conference in Texas in August after she presented on her dissertation work looking at the impact of introduced trout in alpine lakes. After the talk, this man (Angus) walked up to her, introduced himself as a professor from University of Canterbury in Christchurch, and said that her work fit well with the focus of his lab in the New Zealand alpine areas. And lo and behold, she was going to be in NZ in just a few short months! So today we’re headed to some alpine country so Kristy can get a good look at some lakes to see if she could potentially use them for study sites. I get to tag along as does Angus’ 10-yr-old son Theo.
The mist and greyness hang on tenaciously until we finally start rising into the mountains off to the north-west. In less than 2 hours, we’re thoroughly ensconced in the South Island mountains. Reminds me how small this nation is! Invasive gorse brightens the hills and riverbeds to a glowing yellow. Yellow bush
lupine and some non-native bluebell-type flowers add a dash more color as well. The mountains are thickly forested contrasting sharply with the bush- and tree-free tops.
Our path takes us straight up the side of a mountain. The trail is narrow and new, muddy and full of sinuous roots. I have to watch every step I take and there are few and short flat parts. We pause only when Theo’s energy flags to the point of breaking. I catch a flash of New Zealand’s iconic smallest bird, the olive rifleman, a dart of energy. And then I get a good look at a native forest parakeet and I fall way behind my companions as I take in the awesome strangeness of a parakeet in a non-tropical forest. (Strange for me!) This is beech tree forest country with two or three main species, with occasional stinkwood bushes crowding the bases, lots of sphagnum mosses and lichens. The beeches shrink from tippy-tall to stunted bush size as we rise in this goblin forest. The trees abruptly end at “bush-line” and it’s tussock grass and spongy mats of short spiky grass.
We continue straight up
without abatement. The wind blows fierce as Theo and I hop after neon-striped grasshoppers. I worm my hand into one of the non-spiky spongy mats and sink my entire hand into it before I hit dirt. I straighten and take in the flattened, wind-blown beauty around me. The vistas are magnificent and the air is clear so we can see all the way to the westernmost mountain chain, blued with distance. Snow pockets, braided rivers, New Zealand pippits winging straight and true, sharp ridgelines to bridge across. I feel like you could walk across those ridgelines to the west coast and never dip back into forest.
We reach the first alpine lake, a permanent small body of water snugged into a basin of folds. The deep blueness of it and its tucked-away, sweetly secret feel calls to me. It’s a perfect lunching spot, hidden from the sharpest winds. Kristy forgets to eat at first and walks across the entire parameter, avidly IDing invertebrates. We visit a couple other lakes (really, more like ponds) over other rises. There are no trout in these lakes and the challenge will be for Kristy (and Angus) to find lakes that
have been stocked at similar elevations. They need to be in alpine habitat.
We head back down at a break-toe pace. Going down that steep mountain side is fast and treacherous. My toes are jammed against the fronts of my shoes and my legs shake whenever I slow. I try to do some birdwatching but it’s just too much. So I revel in this last day of New Zealand forest. Tomorrow we fly out to Australia!
Cultural differences Candy floss- cotton candy
Manky- dirty, nasty
Pash- passion
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