Feb 25 Christchurch to Hokitika
I packed my belongings and departed Christchurch, heading upwards and westwards. The cloud came and went and it was chilly in the wind.
At Darfield I stopped to change into shoes and trousers and to buy a loaf of bread. The bakery had lots of interesting pastries, cakes etc but the bread was somewhat ordinary. The butchers I remembered from a previous visit was nowhere to be seen.
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I stopped at intervals to take photos as the sun came and went. The lakes were pretty and there were a few flowers around to add a touch of colour.
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Towards the top of the Waimakariri valley is the Bealey Hotel, where I stopped for lunch. The food wasn’t that exciting so I had something light with a view to having a second course at Jacksons, on the other side of the mountain. The main point of excitement at the hotel is the stuffed Moa, part of the legend constructed by a previous owner who had claimed to see one in the bush nearby.
As I approached Arthur’s Pass Village, the drizzle set in and continued as I drove up to the pass. It then stopped so that I was able to get out at the viewing point overlooking the Otira Viaduct to watch the Kea playing in the car park.They were busily posing for photos and tormenting motorists by refusing to get off their cars. I attempted to photograph them flying but with little success. |
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The wind was moving them along at high speed so that focussing on them was almost impossible. I also took the statutory photos of the viaduct and the valley.
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As I continued downwards, the weather improved and I stopped for more photos. Jacksons Tavern finally appeared and I stopped for the second stage of lunch. The building was much older than the Bealey and it was much busier.
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I ordered the roast vegetable soup, the alternative being the dreaded pumpkin. When it arrived it was suspiciously orange but it tasted very good and I didn’t feel justified in complaining.
Outside the hotel was a very rare occurrence in these parts - a train jam. Two huge freight trains were passing very slowly on one of the few double track sections of the line. Whilst the line is old and small, it carries huge quantities of coal across the mountains to the port at Lyttelton, near Christchurch.
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The remainder of the journey down the Taramakau Valley to the sea was uneventful and I arrived in Hokitika in gathering gloom. After checking into the motel I walked into town and along the beach. The waves were large and everything was grey.
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I heard some panting behind me and gained a new friend, who quickly tried to end the friendship by shaking vigorously in my direction. After following me for a while, he trotted off into the sea and then attached himself to another couple.
I made a reservation at my usual restaurant, the Café de Paris which, as it turned out, was a very wise decision. I had a look round a few more shops, got some provisions in the supermarket and then walked home in steady drizzle. I had a rest in the motel & watched the raindrops in the puddles outside.
When dinner time was approaching, I walked back into town – it was almost dry – and settled myself in at the café. For the rest of the evening, an assortment of people arrived, hoping to dine, and were turned away or asked to wait for a while. One brave couple accepted a table on the pavement. Whilst it was a trifle damp, it was warm enough, so they probably dined in comfort. After my greeting from the Maitre d’, I was served by a young lass who I had seen walking through town earlier. She was a trifle plump and had what I can only describe as sephardic ringlets. She managed my order, looking terrified throughout but with a lovely smile and then returned to explain that they had run out of the wine that I had ordered. She returned again with an opened bottle of the wine that I had ordered and offered me a glass. I explained that I wanted a bottle & she explained that she was a trainee & was ever so sorry. I told her to keep on smiling on the grounds that with a smile like that, she could get away with murder. Unfortunately, she looked after other tables from then onwards so I didn’t have to deal with her again. I hope she gets on well.
The food was good and, at the end, they gave me a bill which didn’t include the bottle of wine. As I intend visiting again next year, I ‘fessed up and they were very grateful. The place has real style and I always enjoy visiting.
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I was entertained to pass the Council Offices, which now sports a large purple pig over the front porch.By now, it was raining again so I walked home in the drizzle & played typing for the rest of the evening. |