Late Weekend Wrap

We've got lots to catch up on, so let's start with a rundown of the weekend before last. Sorry about the late entry, but Ellen's hand is actually broken and she's in a cast, meanwhile, I'm actually busy at work. More on that later...

I had made plans to go kayaking on the Upper Shotover river on Friday, but they were tentative because of predicted rain. This time of year, the Upper Shotover is often too low to run, but it's been raining up in the mountains quite a bit lately and the level has come up nicely. The guys I would be going with would have a look at the water gauge online and give me a call in the morning. I was excited to get going, since it had been a while since I had been in my boat.

I woke up in the morning and did some stretching, eager to get going down the river.  Unfortunately, the rain had been a bit too heavy, and my paddling buddies were nervous, so we decided to postpone until Sunday.Of course this was a letdown. I had been anticipating fresh air and adrenaline. Now I was left with a dreary day and the inside of our flat.

Well, Ellen was down with a cold and had planned on my being gone all day anyway, so I decided to take a drive up past Wanaka and check out a hike I had heard about in Mt Aspiring National Park. I figured I didn't really mind being rained on, just wanted to get outside.

I headed up to Wanaka, into an overcast sky, with the intermittent sprinkle on the 'windscreen' - as they call it. Just to review, Wanaka is a beautiful mountain town at one end of what is typically an intensely blue lake, surrounded by tall, steep, jagged, green and gray peaks, with Mt Aspiring and its' glaciers in the distance. It is about an hour from Alex.

The skies around Lake Wanaka were blanketed in grey cloud, just like in Alexandra, but most of the mountains could still be seen. There is a paved road that follows the shoreline to the other end of the lake and then continues into the Matukituki Valley, alongside the Matukituki River, which flows into Lake Wanaka from the mountains above.  The road quickly becomes a dirt one, riddled with potholes, which were now large puddles of uncertain depth. I cautiously negotiated the road as the valley narrowed.  The rain of the day sent temporary waterfalls cascading from the mountainsides, and the scattered small streams over which I passed were really gushing.  The misty day seemed to put off most of the tourists, so I was one of only a few drivers on the road.  I think I passed three cars during the 40 minute drive.

From New Zealand

While the misty, cloud-laced, mountain scenery were lovely, as I approached the end of the road I was looking forward to getting out of the car and stretching my legs.  The intended hike, however, was not to be.  Thwarted by a washed out bridge, I was.  There was the river, rushing right over a dip in the road, probably about twelve feet wide and two feet deep.  I contemplated (briefly) trying to drive through it, but could just imagine myself on the evening news "Tourist and his waterlogged Nissan found in isolated sheep pasture - still no trace of his pride."  I turned back, happy to be on a bumpy dirt road rather than have water up to the floorboards.

At this point, it was after noon and I just wanted to get out for a bit of a walk.  A hike up to a place called Diamond Lake sounded appealing, so I turned off there.  The fact that my car was the only one at the trailhead was even more appealing, so I marched off up the hill and into the mist.

The hike was well worth it, with a stop and the small Diamond Lake, filled with ducks and surrounded by reeds.  A hike further up the mountain offered awe-inspiring views of Lake Wanaka and its surrounds, as well as to further down into the Matukituki Valley.  I even caught a brief glimpse of Mt Aspiring.

From New Zealand

From New Zealand

From New Zealand

Ellen's cold seemed to be letting up a bit Saturday, so we decided to investigate the art galleries in our area.  There are an astonishing number of excellent artists in Central Otago.  We have been hoping to find something representative of our experience, to remind us of our time here, but haven't quite found it yet - price may have something to do with it.  The scenery obviously lends itself to landscape painting, and that is mostly what we ended up seeing.  The galleries are mostly located on small, country roads.  They're often part of someone's home/studio.  None were busy, and each artist was happy to chat about they're own work, as well as to direct us to other artists' studios.

There was one artist who was exceptionally inventive.  He lives way up on top of a hill, overlooking Lake Dunstan and the vineyards of Cromwell and the road heading up is so steep I wasn't sure our intrepid Nissan wouldn't start rolling backward about halfway up.  The climb was well worth it.  His paintings were not landscapes at all.  We stood in wonder, taking in the scenes of his gallery.  It felt like we were taking a trip inside this man's imagination as he explained how he came up with the idea of a hand-knitted New Zealand, and a cat you could zip open.  I don't have enough time to describe it all in detail, but you can check his work out here http://www.alanwatersart.co.nz/

Another gallery was inside a beautiful old barn.  The outside was mostly stonework, while the interior was a cavernous space, painted white a lit by large windows.  The pieces here were technically outstanding, and since they didn't have listed prices, we could only assume they were out of our range.  We had the artists' partner show us around anyway.

A ride through the Gibbston Valley wouldn't be complete without a stop at a winery, so we broke up our daytrip with a drive over to Chard Farm.  This place must be the most beautiful winery in Central Otago.  It is set right beside the deep gorge, through which the Kawarau River runs down to Cromwell from Queenstown.  It is on the side of the gorge opposite the highway, so after negotiating a small bridge over the gorge, a narrow, winding, dirt road makes its way up to the vineyards and tasting room, that is after the road's edge hugs the bluff high above the river.  As your heart rate starts to slow back to normal, the view opens up to the reds, oranges, and yellows of the grapevine leaves as they are illuminated in the late autumn sun.

Not only was it beautiful, but they had a sweet sculpture out front.

From New Zealand

Our plans were dinner in nearby Arrowtown and then a movie at Dorothy Brown's, the cute little cinema where we were the only audience members a couple months back. Dinner was at Saffron and was delicious. We started with a fresh, warm fig salad and a pork tenderloin rolled up with basil and mozzarella. This was followed by roasted loin of venison and vegetables for Ellen and a trio of grilled swordfish in a watercress vinagrette, crispy, deep fried soft shell crab, and creamy smoked salmon mixture wrapped up in a cool, beetroot crepe. A too tasty to describe goat cheese sorbet finished off a meal worth remembering.

Dinner was wrapped up in time to make it to see 'Boy' the movie that has taken New Zealand by storm. Regrettably, we had not made a booking, so we were out of luck. It was back to Alexandra for us, where we had our first run in with the 5-0. About two blocks from our place, we were pulled over on a side street after a cop passed us, flipped on his lights, and made a U-turn. Turns out he was doing a 'random registration check'. Although, he did shove a breathalyzer in my face. It seemed like he was planning to do the small town cop thing and hassle the out of towners, but as soon as I told him I was in town filling in as a GP, his manners changed and he was off. Strange encounter. Apparently, in New Zealand, they can pull people over without cause. I guess we're lucky they only do that to minorities in the States...

As luck would have it, the Shotover came down overnight and was just right for a trip on Sunday. The morning was sunny and crisp, and a frost lay on the grass. The drive took us an our outside of Alex, up into the mountains, then through the pass and down into Skippers Canyon. You may remember Skippers from a previous blog. Yet another bumpy, windy, dirt road took us down to the canyon as it hugged the side of the steep bluff overlooking the rive. This canyon is quite a bit more rugged appearing than the Kawarau Gorge, heading up to Queenstown. The walls are very steep, and it is deep. There is not much vegetation, and the look is rocky and brown.

A small house sits in the bottom of the canyon, next to the river. This is the jetboat headquarters. We stopped to check in to let them know we would be in the river so we wouldn't end up being plowed over by a large, fast boat, loaded six wide with tourists, who would snap photos of our terrified faces before we met our demise.

Further up the canyon road we reached the put-in. There was still frost on the road and the car thermometer read one degree celsius. Thank goodness for synthetic clothing. I was borrowing a boat I hadn't paddled before. In fact, I hadn't even taken a seat in it before that morning, which was probably a mistake. It turned out that it was a bit wide for me as my hips didn't even contact the sides. My control would be less than ideal, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I had to roll. Too late to turn back now.

The three of us hopped in our boats and slid into the sloshing white and brown of the river. The water here often has a dazzling blue-ish, green color, but because of the recent rains it was not quite as brilliant.

The water was high enough so that it was a fairly easy trip with more or less continuous rapids, bopping down drowned boulder gardens and surfing in waves. They were frequent and well formed, so we had lots of opportunities to play. I did get to find out what would happen with the whole rolling situation. Got flipped playing in a wave and soon found that rolling would be more or less impossible. Instead of shifting my weight and rolling the boat with my hips, I just fell out the of the way too big boat. It was a nice, cold swim for me. I didn't have to go too far, though. I quickly made it to shore, where there was an old, rusted out stamping battery from the mining days of the late 1800's. I would have stayed to check it out, but I was freezing, so I hopped back in the boat and continued downriver.

The rest of the trip was interrupted only once by a near run in with the jetboat. Good thing they can spin on a dime. I'm not sure who looked more surprised, us or the passengers. Well, a cold day, brief swim, and even a near miss with a jetboat couldn't ruin a beautiful trip down a remote gorge. Bonus for not soiling myself when the jetboat came around. More to come...