Tuatapere

After arriving back on the mainland from Stewart Island I spend half a day in Invercargill, doing some town things, such as getting  a haircut, doing some shopping, which includes buying some fun things to send to Megan and Elliot and accessing the free wi-fi at the library.  Having decided that my next thing will be to do the 3-day Humpridge Track, which forms a circuit of coastal to alpine scenery in the bottom left hand corner of the island, I head off west from Invercargill and drive for about 80km to the small town of Tuatapere. I don’t know how to pronounce this name, so I ask as I am checking into the camp ground and find out it is said Two-uh-tar-p’ray.  

I remember that Rory was very specific about telling me to check  Josephine’s oil regularly and as I am performing this little task, I have a small mishap. The metal measuring end of the dip stick comes off and remains in the tube! Even I know that it is probably not a good idea to have a small piece of metal floating around in the sump, so I ring Rory for his advice. It seems there are now two problems associated with this. 1, how to remove the metal piece and 2, how to check the oil. By this time it is 8pm on a Friday, but I wander out of the camp site to see what the small town has to offer in the way of mechanical service. Immediately opposite the camp site there is an old garage building and there is a light on and a radio playing loudly inside. I walk around the back to find the way in and startle the man in there, who is changing a tyre on a school bus. The garage building is where the school buses live. The man is friendly and helpful and gathers together a small collection of useful items, including an oily rag and a large magnet and comes across the road in the rain to have a look. He fiddles around for a while, but has no success and tells me that tomorrow morning there will be mechanics working at the service station a little further down the road and it probably won’t hurt to drive the van there. I must remember to buy him a couple of bottles of beer to thank him.

On Saturday morning I am at the service station before it is open. A man arrives to open up and I ask him if there will be mechanics working today. He says no, there won’t be anyone till Monday and that everyone is very busy today because of a family wedding, but Don might be around in a minute and he could take a quick look at it. Don is the friendly and helpful retired garage owner and he suggests various solutions (none of which can be done until Monday) including removing the sump, which will be ‘one hell of a job’.

It takes me a while to weigh up all my options and  I finally decide to start walking the Humpridge Track tomorrow and to leave Josephine at the garage, together with Rory’s phone number so he and the mechanics can communicate and hopefully by the time I get back on Tuesday afternoon everything will be fixed.

With this plan in place I feel better and I spend the rest of the day idling around Tuatapere. It is a small town, with a museum-like quality, as far west as you can go on the south coast road. I was intrigued by the town sign I saw as I drove in yesterday, announcing the town as ‘New Zealand’s Sausage Capital’. I determine to find out more.

Tuatapere – New Zealand’s Sausage Capital

There is nothing in the first part of the main street to give me any clues and when I ask the girl at the checkout of the Four Square supermarket, she doesn’t know the answer – to this, or pretty much any other question. What I do find in this part of town is a mural of sheep-shearers on the side of the public toilets.

Sheep-Shearers Mural

Opposite this there is an old New Zealand Bank building, which houses a strange collection of New Zealand art, museum pieces and a corner devoted to photographs of the local hunting scene.

Art Gallery in the Old Bank Building

Old Telephone Exchange Machine

This machine still has type-written instructions attached for how to prioritise calls. The New Zealand Prime Minister calling could result in another call being disconnected and calls to the New Zealand Poison Unit were also considered important.

Hunter with Dead Pig

Further down the street there is a second hand shop and I browse around and buy an Anita Shreve paperback, that I might have read before. Next to this there is a local craft shop, with an old lady knitting behind the counter. Here you can buy hand-made tissue pouches, carved wooden bowls, crocheted baby clothes etc.

Hand-made Baby Things

 Am surprised and delighted to find something I didn’t know I needed – a small hot water bottle with a hand-knitted cover. Perfect, as it is getting pretty chilly at night in the van on my own.

Joy of a New Hot Water Bottle

Hurrah - next up I find the sausage butcher of Tuatapere.  The town’s claim to fame comes from the fact that sausages have been made in the town for 30-odd years. I guess there hasn’t been a whole lot else going on here, for this accolade to have risen to the top of the pile. This is the guy who now ones the rights to the Tuatapere Sausage name. I buy a couple of sausages of two different flavours – rosemary and mint, and honey and something.

Who ate all the Sausages?

After all this excitement, it is time for a cup of tea and I go into a tea shop, which also has an amazing collection of very familiar old household items on display.

Kitchen Gadgets on Display in the Tea Shop

I order tea and my favourite carrot cake. It all comes on a tray with a separate pot of hot water and big dollop of yoghurt on the side of the cake. I sit in the café and am very contented writing my blog and personal diary. Yesterday I was feeling quite low, but today, the simple pleasures of this small town have lifted my spirts and I feel a whole lot better.

Tea and Carrot Cake

Stewart Island

Before heading to Stewart Island, I stay 1 night in a hostel in Invercargill. I don’t have much time to look around the city, but it looks as if it has some interesting old buildings and lovely parks. The hostel itself is in a wonderful,  atmospheric  old villa on the outskirts of the centre.

Southern Comfort Backpackers

Stewart Island, or Rakiura to give it its Maori name, lies across a short straight south of Bluff. To give you  a little history, there is archaeological evidence of Maori settlements on the island dating from the early 13^th century. James Cook made the mistake of mapping the island as an extension of the mainland. The first European settlers were whalers and sealers and the climate was found to be too wet and the soil too infertile to support farming. Timber milling was reasonably successful and lasted 70 years and boat building and gold mining were both tried and failed.

Today 85% of the island is designated as a national park and there is a resident population of 400 people, who mainly live in the settlement of Oban, in Half Moon Bay.  There is a modern and regular ferry service from Bluff and the journey takes 1 hour.

Me on the Ferry

Arriving at Stewart Island

Oban is a jolly little settlement with a tidy-looking hotel on the seafront, a small supermarket, a school and not much else.

Oban

I have shared the ferry with about 30 members of the Wellington Hogs, who have just attended the annual New Zealand Harley Davidson jamboree in Dunedin last weekend. They have left their Harleys in Bluff, but are still wearing their leathers and they are in holiday mood. Once on the island they hire all the available scooters and parade up and down the seafront, cheered on by the Hogs left without transport drinking beer in front of the hotel.

Wellington Hogs on Scooters

The hostel I am staying in is clean, but disappointingly charmless. As in all hostels there are the usual signs asking guests to tidy up after themselves, but here there are little barbed comments at the end of each one, which add to the lack of atmosphere.

The Dish Rack doesn’t have Arms

There is a girl sitting in the dining room and she says, ‘Excuse me, but did you used to live in Ivybridge?’ This is Claire Fry, who is a year older than Kate and she went to the same primary and secondary school as my children. As we chat, Claire remembers that she and Kate were in the same Brownie pack and even in the same 6 and later they were in Air Cadets together. Later I Skype Kate and the two of them are able to have a chat and reintroduce themselves again. What a small world it is!

Claire Fry from Ivybridge

In the evening I take a gentle walk around Half Moon Bay to get my bearings and soak up the atmosphere of the place.

Pictures from my Evening Walk  017, 23, 24, 25

The next day I start walking on the Rakiura Track, which is a 3-day ‘Great Walk’. It is a relatively easy walk at only 37km long, so less than 5 hours’ walking each day and with the highest point at 300m. The track follows original logging tracks and tramways and forms a circuit around a peninsular from Oban, with coastal views and bush walking.

Day 1 Oban to North Arm Hut

I start walking out of Oban first along a tar sealed road, which then turns into a sandy track and then becomes a small path through forest. After about an hour the path drops down to a bay. The water is very still and looks like an enclosed lake. There is no obvious sign that in the 1860s more than 100 people worked in a sawmill here.

Kaipipi Bay

In the muddiest sections the path is elevated on boardwalks and where it is very steep the boards form steps to make climbing up and down easier.

Boardwalk

 

In one section the path threads amongst huge granite boulders and trees grow over them, with their roots wrapped around the stones.

Trees growing over Boulders

I stop for lunch at Sawdust Bay; the site of a later sawmill. Here the water is so still that the sky and surrounding trees are reflected perfectly in the water.

Sawdust Bay

The first day’s walk ends at North Arm Hut, pleasantly located by the water. It is a large hut which sleeps 32, but it is empty when I arrive. I am sitting on the veranda enjoying the peace, when a small deer comes out of the bush and feeds on the grass below me. It sees me, but is not too bothered and only moves away when it hears other trampers approaching. Over the afternoon and evening the hut fills up to its capacity.

North Arm Hut

Deer

Evening in the Hut

 

Day 2 North Arm Hut to Port William Hut

The second day of the walk cuts inland through the bush from one coast of the peninsular to the other. The forest is green and mossy and full of ferns and lichens.

Fern-covered Tree Trunk

Mossy Roots

Ferns

There is only 1 time all day when a gap in the bush offers a far-reaching view. I come upon it suddenly and unexpectedly and I take advantage of the feeling of light and air to take a short rest.

One View for the Day

Today there are some obvious remnants of the old logging industry. At one place the path crosses an old track bed and at another, by the side of the steep path, there are the wooden sleepers of an inclined plane. At the top of this section there are two old steam engines, which were used for hauling logs and now sit quietly and peacefully with the forest around them.

Old Track Bed

Remains of Inclined Plane

Log Hauler

Today’s walk ends by dropping down to the coast and the hut is located on a grassy lawn by a sandy beach.

Port Elliot

Port Elliot Hut

Inside the hut there is some information explaining about the Maori and settler history of the area. I am particularly struck by one Maori quote which reads, ‘Walk in the footsteps of the ancestors and you will never get lost.’

The hut is not so busy tonight. There are 5 people who were also at last night’s hut with me and another 5 who have arrived from the opposite direction. The younger one of a male pair is flamboyant, extrovert and hilarious. He entertains us for the evening with his stories and making a palaver of cooking dinner. While practically every other tramper is obsessed with reducing the weight in their pack, these two have carried and consumed 4 litres of red wine for their two nights’ stay.

4 litres of Red Wine

Day 3 Port Elliot Hut to Oban

This morning it is raining and feeling distinctly autumnal. For the first time since I have been walking in New Zealand I don my raingear and long trousers, but the weather doesn’t bother me. It adds something to the atmosphere of the coastal scenery and produces wonderful damp smells within the drippy forest.

Rain Gear Required

The path crosses a river on a substantial bridge and then goes along the length of Maori Beach. A collection of various shells sits along the high tide line and walkers have obviously picked up some of the best examples, as they are displayed on the top of the sign at the end of the beach.

River Crossing

Maori Beach

Shells on a Sign

An enormous boiler and other industrial remains sit in a clearing here and an information board describes the sawmill that was located here and the work that took place.

Boiler

There are many lovely views of the coast along the last stretch of the path.

Views

At the entrance to the national park there is a sculpture of a huge anchor chain, which depicts the Maori legend of Stewart Island being pulled up from the ocean floor to act as the anchor chain of the south island. There is a similar one on the coast across the strait at Bluff, to signify the link between the two islands.

Anchor Chain

Huge metal crab or lobster pots are lined up neatly along the last bay before I arrive back in Oban.

Lobster Pots

Back in the hostel I prioritise a cup of tea, a shower, laundry and food. The next morning I take the early morning ferry back to the mainland. This time the crossing is a little lumpy and as I sit at the back of the boat, waves crashing across the stern. By the time we arrive back at Bluff I feel slightly salty.

Leaving Oban

Waves Breaking across the Ferry