"Oh baby baby what can I do You know you drive me crazy when I'm looking at you The summer's really here and it's time to come out Time to discover what fun is about ....
Here Comes The Summer!"
How many times over the years have I played this track in May, hoping for the sun to arrive? Well, sorry yous back at home, but it certainly has down here.
After settling down back here in Wanaka following The Big Trek, November has been a fun month. Just saying; it's been 27-30C, hardly a cloud in the sky and people have been swimming, yes swimming, in the blue glacial waters of the Lake and the Clutha River.
We have found a lovely house in Allenby Park, 12 minutes walk to the centre of town, 9' 40" if you're feeling a bit drouthie, to the nearest bar. No. 12 is situated at the foot of Mount Iron, a 'roche moutonnée' - an elongated knob of bedrock that has been carved and smoothed by an overriding glacier - or so say my geologically-minded friends. For Edinbuggers, it is 10m lower (smaller?) than Arthur's Seat and throws down a challenge gauntlet to us every morning: "Climb Me!" Our aim before we leave here is to run up and down the knoll in a oner. So far the record time for the 5.5km is just over 35 mins - up by helicopter, down by mountain bike.
Jet Boating! Wot larks Pip! Our very lovely friends Guy and Ûschi invited us out for a proper Kiwi experience down the Wilkin River, with nephew George and family. Jet boats were invented locally by Sir William Hamilton and hold a unique spot in New Zealand hearts. The jet boat is able to traverse the shallow, fast-flowing rivers and get deep into remote areas - to heart-stopping effect. One of these can go from full speed to stop within a boat's length, not surprisingly called the 'hit the dash crash' for obvious reasons. The 'Hamilton' turn or 'jet spin' is equally known for its excitement value. It's faster than a fat boy elbowing his way to the front of the line in a pie-eating competition.
Our trip up the river was made complete with barbecue sausages, cooked on an open fire, a few beers and a number of (unsuccessful) casts with a wet fly line. And being eaten to death by pesky sandflies. We felt completely in the middle of a wilderness out there in the west coast mountains, serenely beautiful and wild all at the same time.
Note: GR gets to carry the Heavy Bag. Again.
Out hunting. Returning home for a quick glass of vino, Guy suggests an evening's entertainment. Enter Elmer J Fudd...
"It's wabbit season, and I'm hunting wabbits, so be vewy, vewy quiet! Heh Heh Heh!"
Sadly that evening draws a blank, but on out return, Oli and I complete our part one of our challenge of from field to table.
Pesky wabbits bagged and taken home for a lovely meal a couple of weeks later. Ravioli di coniglio (rabbit ravioli), Polli di cacciatori (Hunters' chicken stew) followed by Frangipane con albicocca e ciliegia, semi freddo alla frutta (freshly picked new-season cherries and apricots from down at Cromwell, the fruit capital of Central Otago; with fruit parfait).
Lurvverly.
Tramping out in the wilds. We've been talking about this since the winter. Heading into the hills and staying overnight at one of the Department of Conservation huts (rather like the bothies in Scotland). Blessed with beautiful weather we drive to Mount Aspiring National Park, deposit the car at Raspberry Flat, and set off for our trek into the hills, carrying everything we could possibly need; packed lunch, food for the evening, porridge for breakfast, sun tan lotion, insect repellent, water and, of course a large vat of wine.
We pass the trail to the Rob Roy glacier, leaving all the other day tourists behind us, though with a peek of the ice wall not far down the track.
In no time at all we are way beyond civilisation and surrounded by the ethereal magnificence of the mountains, glacial glens and waterfalls. The soundtrack is the rushing blue waters of the Matukituki River, the birdsong and the occasional bellow of cattle. It's a beautiful place, all part of Te Wahipounamu - Southwest New Zealand's World Heritage Area.
Despite the height of the surrounding peaks, the walking is pretty comfortable up along a gradual incline towards the summit of Mount Aspiring itself.
We follow the track for several hours, crossing swing bridges and fording a couple of streams, the waters still chilly from their tumbles down from the high ridges.
...until in the distance we spy the Mount Aspiring Hut. Celebrations!
The hut caters for 38 guests, normally packed head to toe in the two dormitories and common living area. We are joined that night by....precisely no-one and have the place to ourselves. Our only slight problem comes in the supper-making department. We have adroitly brought pre-cooked pasta and bolognese sauce which...we only need to warm in the pot we have borrowed from Oli's well-stocked camping equipment. Problem ⌗1 arises when we decide to make a cup of tea on arrival. Who forgot to pack the matches to light the gas burners? Fortunately resident warden Melissa helps us by donating an almost-full box of said matches. Problem ⌗2 follows soon after when the water won't boil because the hob keeps going out. Strange methinks. And why is there so much water sloshing about on the cooker? Oh, dear, there's a hole in my saucepan, dear Liza, dear Liza. Fortunately resident warden Melissa helps out amateur campers for a second time with a rescue pot.*
* On cross examination, O Boyes Esq. admitted that in fact, he was aware of said hole. He had indeed bought the offending article from Wastebusters with the intention of utilising it as a cooking pot, but on discovering the defect decided to re-use the saucepan as an interesting flower pot.
Ms D McLeish, Prosecuting Counsel, suggested that it had been a gross dereliction of duty to store the utensil with other functioning camping gear.
Mr Boyes did at this point make the valid and conversation-ending fact that the amateur campers never bothered to ask him about the pot and had simply made off with the goods. If they'd asked him, he would have let them know it was a dud.
Er....yup!
But settled in and despite the heat of the afternoon earlier, it's pretty chilly. We get the fire blazing away, soon bringing a cosy warmth, food consumed, red wine enjoyed.
Nice also to see a sepia photo of London Scottish 'B"s on a pre-season training jaunt from our time playing there. I'm the fresh-faced lad with the Eric Morecambe shorts, alongside Snakey Potts, Harry The Dog and Fattie Clogg. Bill Cockburn on the extreme left sporting his famous Santa beard and G Broon also there with the fetching bonnet and Noddy Holder sideburns. Aah! Happy days.
As the light fades we settle down for sleep. Diane is puzzled by the large amount (7 or 8) of what appear to be water bowls for canines dotted around the place. I don't have the heart to inform her until morning breaks that in fact they are mouse / rat traps which don't, in fact say "DOG Wanaka", but D.O.C. (Department of Conservation). She wouldn't have slept a wink.
Setting off home was a pleasurable return trip. Despite a chilly start, the sun soon came out to welcome us back to Raspberry Flat and then back home.
Family Times. Otis continues to be a little hero. He is now on 'baby-led weaning', a relatively new practice in which the baby is encouraged to change their diet from being solely milk based to eating solid foods. The baby is in control of what they eat, right from the start. So instead of being offered soft, pureed food from a spoon, advocates of BLW introduce their little one to a family diet and don’t restrict them to “baby” specific foods. Mealtimes are real fun, and Oban the dog is an active advocate and participant, hovering close to the high chair.
Every day is a new challenge for Otis. He's pretty darned close to crawling (oh dear, lock up everything, pick up everything) and is a very jolly soul.
Even got his first kiss from a girlfriend the other day. That's the way, son, play it cool....
Grandpa Mike and Grandma Melinda visited from Auckland, which was a treat for us all and we managed a fantastic fish supper on the shores of Lake Hawea - oh, and beers for the oldies when the others went to put Otis to bed.
The dogs enjoyed a chase as well.
The boys escaped on the Sunday morning for a hike up Brest Peak, further along the shores of Lake Hawea. This is a steep, steep ascent of 900-odd metres and had us fair pecking for breath at times. Mountain goat Oli was out on the ledges at the top, but Mike and I made it without too much trouble. Hard on the way down for old knees, though. Amazingly, Gill had done the same climb a couple of weeks earlier with Otis strapped on a front pack. Respect!
Sister Paula and husband Trevor had an amazing month in New Zealand with the trip culminating in a week in Wanaka. We had a lovely time around the area eating and drinking well, with a few hikes and trips in between
Here's West Wanaka along the lakeside.
Along the track by Whare Kea.
Treble Cone ski field (snow long gone).
Glenorchy and The Lord of The Rings Trail
Returning from Glenorchy we stopped off at Little Paradise near Mount Creighton. Rambling and eclectic hardly begins to describe this spot perched by Lake Wakatipu. A quirky and slightly eccentric Swiss guy built it all by himself, from the handmade wooden furniture to the uniquely tiled bathrooms where tropical fish swim in the cisterns. Outside there's a 5-acre garden filled to the brim with beautiful flowers and various bird life roams about to keep you company.
Summers should be like this. Meeting friends for a spontaneous ogin and tonic on the lawn...
Cycling out in the hills on a whim.
Walking the dog above the conservation area whilst he contemplates the meaning of life, the universe and everything.
Ceilidh at Rippon Winery. We travel 12,000 miles to the other side of the world to encounter - Party Time!
Rippon is a splendid venue for a fun-filled and frenetic evening just like those at home. And a magnificent setting above Lake Wanaka, accompanied by dramatic skies. Everybody gets stuck in and we can all dress in our finest. As usual, you can’t move on the dance floor and the Orcadian Strip The Willow as a finale is just a sight to behold.
