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