Friday 15th March
Leaving Fox Glacier town behind, we drove north once again on our way back to Christchurch and Prebbleton. It was an overcast morning but we still managed to get magnificent glimpses of the Franz Josef glacier. The winding narrow roads and single lane bridges of State Highway 6 gives passengers (me) a lingering view of the majestic mountain scenery. The lush vegetation of the west coast owes its existence to an average annual rainfall of over 10m (yes, I do mean 10 meters - compare that to the UK average of 750mm or 0.75m). In recent times, Franz Josef suffered great losses when a torrential 1.83m of rain was recorded in 72 hours. More rain fell but the gauge overflowed so it wasn't recorded. The numerous wide, dry riverbeds and rocky creeks are testimony to the amount of rainfall in the summer.
The town of Hokitika was an interesting place to stop and it was here in the National Kiwi Centre that we saw the elusive kiwi. This nocturnal bird is difficult enough to see even if you know where it is, so to see it in the wild was not something that we were privileged enough to do. However we did arrive at the centre at feeding time so we were able to watch with fascination as the shy birds were drawn out of their hiding place.
We arrived back in Prebbleton just minutes before John and while Ian unpacked the car, I availed myself of the washing machine (thank you Toni) to get the laundry up to date again. It wasn't long beforeToni arrived home then it was a just enough time for a quick change before we (Toni, John, Ryan, Ian and I) were off to meet up with Kathryn and her partner, Dan for a sumptuous farewell dinner.
Saturday 16th March
Another early start! After a tearful goodbye to Toni and John, we climbed into the car at 6:00am and headed for the train station in Christchurch. Here we boarded the Costal Pacific bound for Picton. At precisely 7:00am the train pulled out of the station and we were at the start of a new adventure. It was still dark at that time in the morning but a mere 20 minutes later dawn had pierced the sky. By the time the sun had shot golden streaks through the clouds and it was light enough to see, the train was swaying rhythmically across the North Canterbury Plains. As the sun climbed above the mountains and just before it hid its face behind a thick bank of cloud, we found a ourselves rolling through the Marlborough vineyards. The row after row of vines were cocooned in protective fabric to guard against frost and/or pests. It looked as if a giant spider had woven its web across the countryside, while In the distance the brown and parched hills, dotted with sheep, presented a contrast to the lushness of the irrigated vineyards.
Unlike the West Coast, the Canterbury Plains are formed from moraine gravels deposited by glaciers over 3 million years ago and this porous material, combined with the drying north-westerly winds make the area prone to drought.
The terrain slowly changed after we crossed the Waiau River. The plains gave way to more hilly countryside as we drew closer to the Kaikoura mountain ranges and we saw more cattle among the sheep. The dry grasslands gave way to a greener landscape with more trees until we reached forested areas alongside river valleys. The train started to wind more as we climbed higher into the mountains and our pace slowed as the engine tugged up the inclines, then increased speed on the downward slopes.
The train driver announced that we would soon be alongside the Pacific Ocean and invited passengers to go out onto the trains viewing platforms which we did. He said that we may be lucky enough to see Hectors dolphins. Suddenly, as we came out of a tunnel, we found ourselves alongside the sea and right on queue we saw a few dolphins then a few more. After a series of tunnels we saw literally hundreds of dolphins frolicking in the sea, jumping and tumbling.
With the wind rushing in my hair and the clickity clack of the wheels on the segmented tracks, I was reminded of why I love train journeys so much. Tears of pure childlike joy welled up and spilled unashamedly down my cheek as I waved to fishermen and campers along the coastline and pointed out the gymnastics of the dolphins. I was reluctant to return to my seat (and an adult composure) as we pulled into Kiakoura station.
Leaving Kiakoura behind, the sun attempted to shine through but soon gave up and we continued under a cover of cloud.
The train snaked its way along the coast line ducking in and out of tunnels and crisscrossing the road, but mostly hugging the shore. It wasn't long before we knew why Kiakoura got its name Kia meaning food and Koura meaning crayfish. We saw people in wetsuits with hands full of freshly caught crayfish. Pity we couldn't stop and buy one. Tanya would have been really jealous!
We continued north and Ian pointed out a rocky outcrop along the beach where we had seen seals on our drive with Toni and John. As we looked closer we saw the seals on the rocks and their pups playing in the kelp, their flippers raised in the air like tiny waving hands. The train clattered on and we saw more and more seals warming themselves on the rocky outcrops.
With the coastline on one side of the railway and the mountains on the other the vegetation changed again. The salt tolerant grasses and sedges covered the dunes that followed the tracks while inland there was a peppering of conifers; tops permanently bent over, clearly indicating the direction of prevailing winds.
The train rattled an swayed on its north bound journey striking inland towards Seddon, Blenheim and ultimately, Picton. The salt tolerant vegetation gave way to straw-like grasses that sustained flocks of sheep and herds of cattle.
Near Seddon is Lake Grassmere, a shallow lagoon sheltered from the open sea by a barrier beach and sand dunes. Its high salinity and the warm prevailing wind makes it ideal for natural salt extraction. The train rattled slowly along the edge of the lake and the driver pointed out the mounds of harvested salt ready for market. Nearly all of New Zealand's domestic salt is extracted from here.
Leaving Blenheim behind the vegetation changed once again. The forested mountain slopes with their felled trees amid replanted new growth and the valley floor carpeted with black wattle. Here and there tracts of land were cleared for pasture and some farm houses could be seen partially hidden behind lush gardens, while most farm houses were hidden behind rusting and derelict sheds. Pastureland gave way to commercial buildings which in turn gave way to housing. We snaked our way through the mountain cuttings and had glorious views of the bustling coastal town and port of Picton.
There was just a short walk from the train to the ferry terminal and they were boarding when we got there. After checking in we simply walked on to the ferry and went straight to the sun deck to watch our departure from South Island.
No comments:
Post a Comment