New Zealand Diary, Day 5

Day 5: Team Extreme

We arose to the aroma of bacon and french toast. Fuel for the morning's activities! After breakfast, it was out to the front yard to get our gear and familiarize ourselves with the kayaks we would be using that day. They were of a traditional sit-in style, rather than the sit-on-top that DW and I had used before. For today's activities, though, we would not use the skirts, as we would not be in waves. After gearing up and adjusting the foot stops, we carried the boats down to the beach, and set off up the inlet.

After about a half-hour of easy paddling, we beached the boats on a small beach at a bend in the river. Whitey said we could make coffee and have a snack, but he knew of an old grave in the area if anyone was interested in seeing it. Anyone who didn't want to go could stay and have their snack. Nobody wanted to miss this, though, and off we went into the riparian woods.

This was real bushwhacking, and some of the bushes were rather prickly. Whitey told us they were gorse, planted by the European farmers for their cattle to eat. On a future day, he would tell us that gorse was considered an invasive species, but it was much less of a problem than others. One reason is that it rapidly grows on cleared soil, such as is caused by logging or forest fire, thus preventing erosion. A further reason is that once it's there, it repels birds that would eat the seeds of native trees and shrubs, and allows those larger plants to establish themselves more readily than if there were no gorse. So it is not hated nearly as much as, say, foxglove (one of which at one point Whitey disgustedly pulled from the ground and threw off the track). But I digress yet again.

After a few pauses to make sure we were going the right way, Whitey announced, "There it is!" We all gathered 'round a roughly 10' x 10' square of rusty iron fence, with a slender tree in the middle of the enclosed area. Leaning against the tree was a 10" x 12" slab of stone with a cross carved on the face. From there, we walked back toward the river about 20 m, where Whitey pointed out the moss-covered bricks of a former small fireplace. While we were talking about the disappearance of the house that was there, one of the group exclaimed, "Look, a skull!" It was an animal skull, about 8" long, with one horn still attached--probably a goat. Whitey then led us on to the other end of the house, most likely the kitchen, where a much larger fireplace had stood.

Then it was back to the boats, but on the way out we passed where the workshed had been; a sheet of steel and an old log-saw blade leaning against a tree attested to that. When we got back to the boats, we discovered that the tide was going out, because there was much more beach exposed than when we arrived. We shoved our boats back into the river and headed downstream. Not quite halfway back, we stopped at a place where there was now some sand exposed. From there, we could see a dilapidated two-room clapboard house about 150 m across a grassy field. As we approached through the gate and made our way up the trampled grass pathway, Whitey explained that this was the site where one of the Wilsons' extended family settled for farming in the last years of the 19th century. Since the area was made a part of Abel Tasman National Park, the homestead was frequently used by backpackers as a hut to sleep in. The tin roof was amazingly still mostly intact. It appeared that the old spring bed had been moved into the front room, and there were magazines and books from the period of the 1920s and '30s when the farm was abandoned.

After spending a few minutes in reverie over the pioneer spirit, or the antiques in the bookshelf/pantry, or the tenacity of certain bits of wallpaper, or the ravages of time, Team Extreme (as Whitey had begun calling us because of our willingness for adventure) headed back to the boats and on to the lodge, where we had to port the boats a bit further to get them up to the yard than to bring them down that morning.

After a delicious light lunch, Team Extreme was off again, this time (now that the tide had gone out) down the beach and around the spit (ack-ptui!) to another, public lodge in the community of Awaroa. This lodge is situated in the small rise of land between the sea and a wetland, which is protected there much as they are in the American West. We were given the opportunity to freshen up at the lodge, then we took the track in back of the lodge to a small deck in the wetland. Whitey leaned down and pattered the water with his fingertips, and soon one, then two sleek, dark shapes appeared in the shallow water.

Eels!

Whitey explained that these eels didn't live in the salt water of the sea, but in fresh water, going to the sea to spawn. Once returned to fresh water, they could live there for 50, 75, maybe as many as 100 years. He estimated the two we saw were 50 or 60 years old. They detect prey--mostly insects and the fry of other fish--by vibrations in the water, which is why they came out when he disturbed the surface. I also suspect that these eels were quite accustomed to humans, and probably to being fed, because they were quite docile when we reached down to touch them. Well, some of us did.

From there, we went back to our lodge via a track that overlooked the wetland. Supper for most of Team Extreme was a hefty, fresh salmon steak. There was one member of the group who is vegetarian, and I don't eat fish; we had "stuffed capsicum" (bell pepper). That happens to be one of my favorite meals, so I was not at all disappointed by my choice not to partake in the regularly planned dish. Dessert was a homemade cheesecake with strawberry sauce. There was actually enough for me to have two slices. I shouldn't have done, but I did.

After supper, some went out to the seaview deck or even the yard for wine and conversation, a bit of exploration, or even just watching the tide come back in as the sun set. Others found a newspaper and began doing the crossword puzzle. Soon the excitement of the day's activities was overcome with a happy fatigue, and we headed off to sleep and dream of tomorrow.