Originally I fancied the TranzAlpine train* for this leg, instead we drive over Arthur’s Pass through thick mist and rain. No views then. Boo. On the eastern side it’s sunny. It seems the train is not running anyway, so glad we’ve not booked. Signs off to ski fields suggest snow, but there’s just lunar rocks and shale. The geography gives way to the huge Canterbury Plains, verdant with agriculture, divided by long, straight roads.
We bypass Christchurch where it’s raining (again) and press on to the Blakes Peninsula. Climbing the steep, winding roads, we reach the top, the sun (yess!) and a breathtaking view. The Hilltop Inn seems a good place to lunch on fish tacos and absorb our destination in the company of a goat.
Blakes Peninsula is another volcanic caldera, green, lush and beautiful. The town of Akaroa is French influenced and pretty as a postcard. We wander around, drinking in the tranquility of this little town and the twinkling sea beyond.
I could lose weeks here, indeed many lucky Brits have houses in town. Over dinner, a local fireman tells us there are 500 residents and 2,500 holiday homes ! I can believe it, but they won’t come cheap.
My lighthouse tally goes up a notch, although sadly it’s not open. Delighted, too, to see a pod of dolphins frolicking in the evening sunlight. Aww.
Next day the sun’s still shining on the righteous and we split up. My friend wants the stability of a motor boat. I opt for a 1962 wooden yacht, built from one, big Kauri** tree and still in reasonable shape.
The owner motors us out over millpond flat water to the natural harbour entrance where we are joined by the rare and quite small Hectors dolphins which live here. Engine off, they seem happy to swim around the boat. Their dorsal fins appear rounded, giving them the ‘Mickey Mouse dolphin’ nickname.
Around the corner, Cathedral Cave is a huge, colourful, natural feature we are told was often used for wedding ceremonies, until a sheep fell off the cliff above and ruined the proceedings ! ‘Does anyone know of any (l)awful impediment….?!!!’
In the bay little blue penguins swim at a respectable distance and yet again fur seals are sunbathing on the rocks. No albatross, but a large colony of shags, white fronted terns and oystercatchers give the wildlife tally a boost. On the way back to Akaroa we sail past the salmon farm, origin of last night’s rather tasty supper.
Pleased with my choice of vessel, this has been a cracking morning. Beneath the jetty a huge ray is circling, hoping for some fishy titbit. On the jetty the fisherman’s cabin sells a superb pot of home-made seafood chowder. That’s lunch sorted, then.
On the seafront I spot a familiar face. A bust of Frank Worsley***, son of this town, stares back at me, looking out across the water. I had no idea and laugh at the coincidence.
This place has got under my skin and I want to stay longer. With another full day we could join the local postman on his rounds. I’m not joking ! For a modest sum, a select few can spend 5 hours with the postie as he navigates the endless lanes and hills of the peninsula. No doubt embellishing the experience with some interesting banter. Another one for the ‘next time’ list !
With sadness we take the longest route possible out of the caldera, visiting a huge, deserted beach on the outer coast. ‘Le Bon’s Bay’ ! I’m humming a tune. A large, dead salmony fish has washed up on the tide, his eyes shiny and bright. He’s a long, long way from the water now, but I reckon he’s perfectly fresh. We decide to pass.
Negotiating the steep, windy road skirting the rim is finally taking it’s toll on the small car. A smell of hot metal is permeating the cabin, but the indicators say all’s well. Not wanting to fry anything at this late stage, we seize the opportunity to stop frequently and drink in the views. Well, why rush a good thing ?
*http://www.kiwirailscenic.co.nz/tranzalpine
**https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agathis_australis
***http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/3w28/worsley-frank-arthur