Nature nature car-park

---

January 31st


The next morning we lounged in our parking spot, soaking up all the electricity we could before setting out to find the buskers. George managed to parallel parked Dame Edna (another name for our van - she walks like a woman but talks like a man!) in the town centre, and we joined the crowds in Cathedral Square. Frankly, I was expecting a multitude of acts across all genres, but Christchurch decided their World Busker Festival was going to consist of a few choice highlights - ‘Yo-yo Guy,’ some dude juggling knives on a unicycle and a comedy act from Tasmania. Most memorable were their variable pleas for money: “I’ve got a new baby on the way” “This show costs ten dollars” etc. Not that I’m a connoisseur, but my impression is that busking should be about displaying your art, not begging with a microphone. My favourite act was the lonely old man and his accordion just on the outskirts of town (but to each their own).


A late start to the day’s drive, but fortune was on our side. By the time we arrived at the windswept Otego Peninsula, reports from those on their way up the steep dunes indicated we were in for a treat, and they were right. The climb down was fairly treacherous, but soon we were carefully perched on a dune where a Dutch girl sat, quietly contemplating something.


We looked harder, and there she was: a perfect Yellow-Eyed penguin, the most rare of them all, hopping around the rocks and looking eternally off-balance. Just in front of us lounged a mother seal and her pup, looking very well fed and having a blast. The pup kept going after mom’s flippers with his sharp baby teeth, and in retaliation, she’d scoop up and then flick a load of sand onto him (clearly we’re ascribing gender randomly, just go with it).


We watched them for about ten minutes, when the penguin disappeared into the rocks and a lady with binoculars and a massive broom walked over and motioned for us to move. She told us that we were perched right in the penguin’s route from sea to nest, and that was why the one penguin was looking so confused. With her stern glare and big red broom, she appeared as though it was her life’s work to sweep away all tourist footprints. I never thought I’d say it, but clearly some parts of New Zealand do need more signage.


We relocated to a hideout, which was the first bunch of reeds on the beach, and watched the waves. Eventually, G. spotted something unusual in the surf. A bird that looked remarkably like a loon was riding the big waves into shore. She beached herself, then did the most remarkable thing: started rocking forwards and back, gathering momentum, until with great effort she rocked herself straight onto her feet! It was so funny to watch, remembering that penguins of course have no other way to right themselves. She marched out of view, having completely stolen our hearts. This corny expression took on a literal tone as we scaled the sheer cliffs of sand for the half hour journey back up to Edna.


We meandered down the coast towards Dunedin, excited by vague memories of John’s recommendations. After a long journey around the town we settled on a car park that looked fairly out of the way and friendly (and free, because it’s Saturday night!) then decided to enjoy a night on the town. Wahoo, can the Dunedonians party. Hopping around from one bar to another along the pentagon was an absolute joy, and then we headed to Bath Street for some raucous dancing. All it took was a ‘GO LEAFS GO’ for one friendly Invercargill native decked out in a Maple Leafs hoodie to invite us to tag along with his crew, his brother is currently in Toronto. More evidence of the famous NZ hospitality here, not ending until late into the wee hours.

February 1st 2009

There’s nothing worse than waking up in a busy car park with a hangover. Wait for it, there is one worse thing: when you can’t get out! The lot was on a steep slant, so everything from backpacks to loo roll had fallen down towards Mission Control (driving area). Some genius had parked their car right up against the front of ours, as tight as they could. Consider: there was one inch between the two cars. Our goal was to back out of this spot on a steep uphill, with a standard transmission that’s on its last legs, in a 2000 Ford Transit kitted out with a full kitchen, shower, and toilet. Twenty hair-raising minutes later, we were free from that small slice of hell, no visible damage done, and on the road to the most Southerly point of the South Island.


First, two necessities: McDonalds for breakfast and a quick visit to the World’s Steepest Street, Baldwin St. Edna made it about a third of the way up but then started to agree with the many signs seriously warning away heavy vehicles. On some parts, the sidewalk has steps, and we saw some bicyclists standing next to their bikes looking defeated at various points up the road. The best part was the tourist shop, where we bought a ‘worlds steepest street’ magnet (because we drove 1/3 of the way up it). In a forgotten bin we found trucker hats for $5. George’s is bright red and has some warning signs (‘Kiwis next 1000km,’ ‘rugby fanatics next 300km’ and ‘extreme adventure activities next 200km’) and mine is just a big picture of New Zealand, so we’re sure we’ll fit right in with the locals and not look like tourists at all.


I decided we should take the scenic route and promptly fell asleep. It was sweet, sweet sleep but I paid dearly for it ten minutes later with all the well-justified complaining. Our first stop was lunch at Matai Falls, deep in the Catlins Conservation Park. The jungle was thick and damp, and smelled like Costa Rica, but the air is cooler here this close to the South Pole. Further down the coastal route, we stopped at Curio Bay to see the Fossilized Forest (pile o’ old rocks) and made a pit stop in Niagara at a speck of a café called Niagara Falls.


The rest of the afternoon was spent examining all the little inlets and bays that dot the coast. Gazing out towards the horizon gave us the willies, as the Southland is the last stop on the way to Antarctica, and certainly has a “the world is flat and this is its edge” feel to it. Just like up north in the Orkney Islands, the trees become scarce, the moss grows to extraordinary heights, and the sheep enjoy unheard of liberties with the farmer so far away. Baaaaaaaaa. There are so many sheep here, and the ones that have just been shorn all gather together in the stiff wind, presumably cursing whoever did the deed.


We made our way down to Slope Point, the most southerly point on the mainland, but decided if we didn’t stay in Edna she’d blow right over. We promptly plugged in at Slope Point Backpackers, where we were greeted by a dog called Gus and an armful of fresh kitten (four weeks!) In the kitchen we met two Israelis who greeted us through the time-honoured tradition of mockery. “I can tell that you have rich because you have avocado while camping.” Yeah, well, at least we haven’t banged up Edna as bad as you have your friend’s Holden, moneybags. Later, having checked into the Four Star and Moon Hotel (Edna in Bed Position with her back doors flung open) curious sounds came from all around us. Note the tagline: “Farmstay at Backpacker Prices!” What animal makes that noise? We just chalked it up to general Kiwi weirdness and fell into a deep, long sleep.

---

Photos

First penguin sighting
as we arrived at Sandfly Bay on the Otago Peninsula

What was I thinking?
I drove up this dirt road because the GPS said I could, we were both wrong