After spending the winter in Ohakune, New Zealand, I headed to the South Island for some tramping, wine tasting, and sailing.
There are ducks in New Zealand that mate for life. I don’t remember their name. The female has a white head, and the male a black one and we first saw them while kayaking in Milford Sound. In Christchurch, they stroll through the Botanic Gardens in pairs, resting in the sun on the banks of the Avon River.
Christchurch has been accused of being “too English”… but that is precisely what I like about it. A European city of turn-of-the-century stone buildings with cozy sidewalk cafes and quaint English punts taking tourists along the river, situated on the shore of the South Pacific and protected on the west by the Southern Alps.
On the edge of the Botanic Garden is the Canterbury Museum, which they say was built with the now extinct Moa bird. The museum had so many Moa fossils that they began to trade them to museums around the world in order to build their collection. It also houses the converted tractor that Sir Edmund Hillary used to cross Antarctic, becoming the first man to reach the South Pole.
Next door to the museum, is Christ’s College for Boys, the most prestigious boarding school for high-school-aged boys in the country. Just across the street, is the Arts Center, housed in the original buildings of the University of Canterbury. Strolling through the various gardens and courtyards, you are welcome to step into the artists’ studios even while they are working. In other buildings you’ll find various galleries selling locally designed and made jewelry, wool and wool products, jade and carved bone, ceramics, artwork, and leather goods. Above each of the entrances are the original names of the buildings: Science and Maths, Humanities, Law, and of course, The Arts.
A block down from the Arts Center is the Christchurch Art Gallery featuring modern and classic Kiwi art. I was particularly impressed with the work of Séraphine Pick. The retrospective of her work spanned the years from 1990-2009. from monochromatic abstract “thought collages” in oil and pencil of her early years to expressionist portraits, then fantasy and surrealism, and finally socially and politically inspired realism that features bold colors and aggressive images. In a word, I was stunned. Upstairs, a gallery called Cloud 9 featured the work of nine recent graduates of the University of Canterbury. Ruth Angus, whose work made an impression on me at the Auckland Art Gallery, also graduated from the University of Canterbury. As I scribbled the young artists’ names in my notebook, I resolved to apply to an MFA program.
I was couchsurfing with a Dutch-born engineer whose family had immigrated to New Zealand when he was three. In the evening, we went to Dux de Lux, a popular restaurant featuring locally grown vegetarian and seafood dishes in one of the courtyards of the Arts Center. We sat outside with a Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc under a starry sky. The next evening, he invited me to participate on his crew for the Wednesday evening sailing races taking place in Lyttleton Harbor. The captain’s name was Dave, but everyone just called him Skip. I forget the name of the boat, but she was a 30-foot keelboat, and after several exciting laps around the harbor, we won our class. After the race, the crews gathered upstairs in the sailing club for beers, hot chips, and the results.
Ever so reluctantly, I had to leave Christchurch the next morning, on the Tranz-Coastal train, heading north to Picton, the port in Marlborough Sound where you can catch the Interislander Ferry across Cook’s Strait to Wellington. I stayed in town though for a bit of tramping—the Kiwi version of hiking. I had met a German girl on the train who was staying in the same backpackers (hostel) as I was. The afternoon was warm and sunny, and for the first time this spring I got to wear shorts! We decided to take the hostel’s resident dog, Millie, out for a walk along the cliffs. It was a perfect afternoon and we walked nearly ten kilometers. After much-needed showers, Elka and I went out to Le Café for some fresh seafood. She had the scallops and I had the catch of the day, a huge portion of John Dory, grilled and served over potatoes with a lovely side salad. Elka’s scallops were served over couscous with grilled asparagus. I can absolutely say, that this is one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life. So good that I went back the next day with a Dutch backpacker and had the fish soup, a sort of bouillabaisse with a wine-based broth, served with garlic toast and a side salad.
That morning, I caught the eight o’clock water taxi to Ship’s Cove, the site at which Captain Cook’s boat was blown to shore during a storm in the late 1800s. I was going to walk a short section of the Queen Charlotte Track, a 71-kilometer hiking trail named for King George III’s consort. My tramp would be only 15 kilometers, from Ship’s Cove to the Furneaux Lodge. There are various resorts and B&Bs along the track, reachable only by boat or by foot. To say that the location is romantic is a serious understatement.
It was raining, a low mist fell over the Sound as we left Picton. I was on the lookout for dolphins but found myself more in awe of the purple mountains fading into the fog all around us. Even on this gray day, the water was the color of my Alexandrite ring, a deep turquoise, the kind of color so unnatural, it can only be found in nature. There was a young German named Samuel on the boat with me, and four mountain bikers. The bikers would be having a heck of a time with the steep, slick, clay path. Being the only two walkers out that day, it was natural that Samuel and I would travel together. After taking a few pictures at Ship’s Cove monument, we started up the track.
Climbing high above the sea, we moved from low-lying rainforest to an arid hardwood forest, though on that damp day, there was nothing arid about it. In the beginning, I tried to keep my feet dry by avoiding the mud and the overflow of water from the many, many waterfalls, but after a while, I just gave up and stepped where I pleased. After the initial climb, the track evened out for a pleasant walk in the rain. The views were breathtaking around every bend and corner, and despite the rain, it was a lovely walk.
I had six hours to do the walk until the water taxi picked me up at the Furneaux Lodge; I reached the lodge in just under four hours, including several stops along the way. That left me with two hours to spare, so I ordered a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some French Onion Soup. If this is tramping in New Zealand, this is my kind of tramping! (I’m certain that several people reading this post will be thinking the same thing!!)
Back at the hostel after dinner, I dried myself out and opened a bottle of Hawke’s Bay Pinot Noir. The hostel served hot apple crisp every evening at eight o’clock, so I grabbed a bowl and snuggled up for a movie. This morning, I went again to Le Café for my morning latte and a slice of lemon poppyseed cake served with yogurt before catching the bus to Blenheim.
For the next few days, I’m staying at the Straw Lodge on Barrows Vinyard, to learn about growing grapes, and making wine. It’s in the heart of Marlborough, New Zealand’s most important wine region and I’ve got some thirty wineries within biking distance. I have a busy few days ahead! Today it’s raining though, so I’m snuggled by the fire with my computer. The owners, Nettie and Jane, have invited me for a wine tasting with six American guests who arrived today.
Out the window, the rain has finally slowed, and a rainbow has formed out over the vineyard. Somewhere in the distance, a horse is neighing and the rain sparkles on the fresh green vines.