Nevertheless, while in Murchison - the "Whitewater Capital" - we had signed up for a trip out on Buller Canyon in a jet boat!
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| I'm leaving on a jet boat |
The area around Murchison is prone to earthquakes, having experienced a 7.5 Richter quake in 1929 that rent the earth, thrusting part of it 4.5m upwards, exposing potassium-pink layers of granite and, more valuably, gold, which brought a number of prospectors to the area. Another in 1968 broke off a chunk of hill, sending shattered rocks into the Buller River, creating the rapids so beloved of kayakers.
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| Don't look d... Too late |
At Buller Gorge, we took a long swing bridge across the chasm to the far side, where we were met by Mark.
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| Mad Mark |
Mark is the owner of a boat powered by a rumbling Chevy 6.2 litre v8 engine. Having loaded us and a few other hapless chumps on board, he took us paddling around waiting for a couple of latecomers, while filling us in on the history of the area. Finally, with a full complement, he opened the throttle and sent us bursting over the water's surface, while the engine emitted a throaty roar that mirrored Mark's maniacal laugh. Despite doing this several times a day, he was clearly enjoying the experience as much as, if not more than, everyone on board. With a half-crazed expression, he twirled his right hand in the air, indicating that we would soon be entering a spin. When this happened, the boat's occupants were all thrown to one side or the other as the nose turned on a penny. This he did several times as we jetted our way, gliding in mere inches of water, bumping over the eddying rapids, and grazing the rocks on either side of the canyon, up and down the river. It was an exhilarating and beautiful experience.
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| A little too close for comfort |
After that, it was all I could to stop myself 'going for a spin' as we wound along SH6. However, I suspect the NZ police would take a very dim view of a Toyota van doing doughnuts on their highways.
Instead, I proceeded at a law-abiding speed down the arrow-staright SH69 to Reefton, where I received a much-needed cake injection courtesy of Broadway Tearooms and Bakery. A very pleasant stop, excellent cakes and friendly staff.
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| Quite possibly the finest carrot cake in all of NZ |
From Reefton, we joined the SH7 down to Greymouth - quite literally on the 'mouth' (estuary) of the Grey River. This town fulfilled all expectations of the image I had of it in my mind. I am sure the west coast is stunning at other times of year, but today the outlook was grey and uninspiring. We visited Countdown supermarket, as Pak'n'Save seems to have no representation out in this neck of the woods, and moved on.
Owing to the late hour and poor weather, we charged through the small town of Hokitika - which has had the Abba song 'Chiquitita' going through my mind for days, or, more accurately, the misheard 'chicken tikka' lyrics. It was a shame to pass by its door, as we had hoped to explore it.
Just south of Hokitika lies Lake Mahinapua. The weather turned from grey to worse as we pulled up at the DOC campground on the edge of the river around 17:30. Given the change to the clocks, sunset happens between 6pm and 7pm these days, so the race was on to prepare dinner before dark on the unpowered site.
To help matters along, K opened a bottle of 'Monkey Beach' merlot and some smoked cheese we bought in Greymouth. This helped as K fought the wind and rain to pull together a mushroom pilaf on the hob out of the back on the van.
A triumph of culinary adversity it was. Against the sound of the rain lashing metallically against the van roof, we enjoyed a sumptuous bowl of rich and filling rice. It was quite the worst weather we have experienced since arriving in New Zealand and the most akin to the 'wet weekend' image I have of camping. Ee, it ain't 'alf grim down south.
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