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Published: December 14th 2010
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This morning I got out early, and found that it was an easy 15-minute downhill walk into town. Tekapo has a single strip of stores and restaurants by the lake, with scattered houses, motels and bed and breakfasts across the road in the hills above it.
I went around behind the stores. There was a dirt path, fairly level, near the lakeside, and I walked along it. There were benches placed at suitable intervals by the local Lions Club; I sat on every one of them.
The lake is indeed beautiful, and well-known for its
turquoise opacity, which is caused by finely ground stone suspended in the water. It reminded me very much of a lake near my home in West Virginia, though of course that lake does not have the Southern Alps as a backdrop.
Unfortunately, a bulldozer soon came trundling down the path, making a noise that hurt my shoulder. I waited for it to leave, but it didn't, so I did.
Perhaps it won't be there tomorrow.
Anyhow, I wasn't ready to stop walking, so I consulted my map and headed for the town's two main tourist attractions, the Church of the
Good Shepherd and the Collie Statue. They were quite close together, so I thought I would walk over and see them both.
The map didn't mention that that would involve crossing the dam. It was quite safe really; there were waist-high railings on both sides. On one side the railing guarded you from the spillway; on the other, from automotive traffic on State Highway 8.
Both were rather scary, though 8 is not a busy road, and I was glad when I was safely across.
There was a particularly nice bench at the turn for the little church, in the shade, and I sat there for quite a while. The way to the church led down along a marsh boardwalk, and I was interested to see that they had ice-proofed the boardwalk by laying down a mat of chicken-wire upon the boards.
Once across the boardwalk and back up the slope, I went first to the collie statue, as it represented the farthest point of today's trip. It was rather a disappointment. The dog was small and stylized and lacked the personality of, say, Greyfriars Bobby.
But then, it was not a monument to a particular dog,
but merely a generic statue erected in celebration of the sheepdog's importance to the local economy.
The Church of the Good Shepherd was unexpectedly moving. I had been regarding it more in the light of a scenic attraction than a church, but as soon as I stepped inside I could tell I was on consecrated ground. I prayed there, and felt much better and happier for it. It was a small chapel with perhaps six rows of pews and a simple wooden cross on the altar. It is a working Anglican church, with Sunday services, and the local Roman Catholics also use it.
I walked back across the dam and began to explore the row of shops. I booked a stargazing tour for tonight, cloud cover permitting. Tekapo usually has clear skies, and indeed is noted for them, but I have inherited the Dickerson rainmaking ability in full measure, and it was actually spitting rain not long after I arrived yesterday. ("When the Dickersons travel, it rains" -- back in the 1930's, when my mother's family drove through Death Valley, it rained on them.)
There were several restaurants and fast-food places in the row, though no name-brands,
and I was unable to resist the lure of a place called Run 77, which offered a roast venison sandwich. In the event, I didn't much like the sandwich, though I am sure it was well-prepared, but the accompanying salad was excellent.
They had a selection of newspapers, magazines and books for their customers to read while dining. I first paged through a local newsletter, which contained many notices of local Christmas parties and Christmas caroling.
There was also an exasperated announcement from the local Resource Center (not sure whether that's a Community Center or a Library), warning the person who had stolen their brand-new garden tools that the police had been informed and that they would soon be caught. "And if the police don't catch you," they added,"we hope that everything you plant with them wilts, rots and dies."
When I finished the newsletter, I began reading a book, Mona Anderson's *A River Rules My Life*. It was autobiographical, about her life as the wife of the owner of a New Zealand sheep station. The first chapters were set in the 1930's; later chapters brought the station through the war and the modernization and electrification of
the 1950's.
I was very interested in it, but it didn't seem likely to be the sort of book that would be easy to obtain at home, so I decided to try to read it there. I asked permission, and they did not object or hint that I should buy more items, but after I had been reading for more than an hour I went up and bought a hot chocolate. It was very good. In the end it took me 2 1/2 hours to read the book. My reading speed was ruined by a retinal detachment many years ago, and the glasses I have this year aren't helping matters any. I was sitting in the shade, though, and it was a pleasant way to spend the sunniest part of the day.
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K.Freeman
non-member comment
What a beautiful church
Somehow that consecratated ground thing seems to convey in the photographs. How is that even possible?