• St Arnaud and Punakaiki

    27 Sep–1 Okt, Selandia Baru ⋅ 🌧 11 °C

    We left a sun-drenched Picton and drove to Blenheim, where we spent an enjoyable hour or so at the Cloudy Bay Winery, tasting a few samples purely in the interest of research.

    Then we headed up the valley, until the endless vineyards of Marlborough made way for hillier country, with the braided and fast-running Wairau River the dominant feature, before arriving at tiny St Arnaud, on the edge of Lake Rotoiti.

    The lakefront is incredibly picturesque, with a solitary jetty just crying out for a bikini-clad lass - admittedly with frostbite - posing on its edge. Unsurprisingly, there were none around.

    Refurbishment of the local beech forests is a big thing here. Apparently the female scale insect burrows into the beech tree and eats the sap. It then excretes honeydew through its anal passage, and this secretion is ambrosia for the birds and insects of the forest. And also, unfortunately, for the wasp, which, since being introduced into the country, has decimated the local wildlife.

    So there are hundreds of wasp-bait stations in the area, along with traps for larger predators such as rabbits, stoats and the like. The dedication of the local group who are doing this work is admirable.

    After a couple of days, we made our way to the west coast, via the very scenic old gold mining town of Reefton, to Greymouth and, finally, to Punakaiki, home to the Pancake Rocks and Blowholes.

    These proved to be much grander than their name suggests, in part thanks to the heaving, frothing Tasman Sea, which absolutely pounded the shore for the entire duration of our visit.

    From the architecturally impressive visitor centre, the path meandered through acres of New Zealand flax plants as we made our way about fifty metres to the coast.

    Once there, the circuit took us along the top of the cliffs, weaving between chasms full of churning water. From time to time, a thrump! told us to expect spray from a blowhole somewhere. It was amazing.

    We also took a drive north to Charleston, and pretty Constant Bay. Unbelievably, this tiny inlet was at one time gazetted as the official Port of Charleston. Too bad the entrance is only about thirty metres wide, and thirty metres of surging, unforgiving ocean at that. Little wonder that there were eight shipwrecks in thirteen years.

    Two days in Punakaiki has been perfect; there has even been the occasional period of fine weather! Tomorrow we head to glacier country.
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