Last to Know (Tekapo to Greymouth)

As you will understand, there were reasons there are no photographs to document this leg of the trip. The rain certainly played its role and then there was my reasoning of not wanting to leave a clear road and placing myself in an endless queue of cars that will not overtake slower moving vehicles. As a result, the photos are mostly flowers to brighten the day - and believe me, here in Greymouth, we need brightening.

Overnight the wind picked up and brought with it rain. As we left Tekapo, the clouds were clearing and the sun was shining again. It was a five hour drive to Greymouth on the west coast although there are planned stops. The first of these was Fairlie to sample the pies at the renown Fairlie Bakehouse. Just outside of Fairlie, we saw our first wallaby. No need to report this one to the authorities, it looked like it had met the All Black pack, it was roadkill.

Christchurch Botanic Garden

As was expected, the pies were very good. Not as good as my Christchurch pie, but very good. Lovely pastry, good amount of filling, but could be improved by a little less filling, more gravy and a bit of pepper. Everything was progressing well and then the coffee arrived. Despite sitting in the bakery we were served coffee in a take-away cup with a lid. Now dear reader, you know I'm a coffee snob, but to serve coffee in a paper cup to inhouse guests is ridiculous. Take-away cups do nothing to enhance the flavour of coffee although little would have helped this cup of airline dishwater.

Timaru rose garden.

New Zealand can be a curious place to outsiders. Their naming conventions are a cross between honouring the 'old world' and/or the Maori with the downright bogan. Who names a mountain range Darren? Or a township Geraldine? It's not like they are royalty. Imagine the looks of concern when your host says, "yeah, we'll just slip into Geraldine together and then mount Darren, eh, awesome". Sadly I just discovered that it is the Darran Range, but there is a Mount Christina. Not sure how she feels about that.

Seeding grass in Dunedin.

Another discovery is that food and wine are expensive. Now I can live without one, but not the other; you decide which one. Trying to support their local wine industry has often meant paying $40 for a bottle when I could have purchased less expensive wine from other countries, like Australia. When you're travelling and staying in accommodation with only rudimentary cooking facilities (if at all) you are at the mercy of the restaurant trade. While we have had some excellent meals, $50 for a main course is a tad pricey. Even the pub, (sorry - gastropub) prices are top end. For instance, wine is not at bottle shop prices but more in line with restaurants.

The greenhouse Olveston House, Dunedin.

Although Jayne sits with the map on her lap, responsibility for navigation has been ceded to Declan (our Irish-voiced Apple Maps guide). In an attempt to find the fastest route, Declan has taken us off grid, down gravel roads, through farmland complete with cattle grids (or cattle stops as they are known here) on the road and warnings only to attempt the drive in fair weather. In doing this en route to Greymouth, we missed our planned break at Sheffield because Declan decided we shouldn't visit. Eventually we found our way back to the main road, or Declan did, but we were the last to know. Hence today's title from Neil Finn's 2001 solo album One Nil. I think it is fair to say that, under Declan's guidance, we have been down roads that most Kiwis have never dared to go...

Olveston House garden.

The road wound on, and I mean wound on. Through mountain passes and valleys, the weather deteriorated and at times we were driving through torrential rain. There were magnificent waterfalls, so Jayne tells me, I was watching the road. One waterfall was actually cantilevered across the road through a concrete chute so the water cascaded onto the other side of the road. This was followed by a rockfall suppression tunnel. Confidence building. I'm sure the drive was spectacular, but it was also taxing and tiring The numerous weka (maori woodhen, aa type of rail) we saw roadside were having more fun than me.

Fungus in The Catlins.

As we arrived in Greymouth, a coastal town, it was difficult to discern between the curtain of rain and the ocean. It was fittingly grey. The usual salt smell that lingers in beach towns was also lacking. I'm looking forward to exploring the area tomorrow, weather permitting. At the moment the weather app is suggesting we'll be indoors all day. Rain, rain, storms. Promising.

The garden at Lakefront Lodge, Te Anau.

The rain and thunder were my alarm clock today, at 4:45am. While it's a nice change to be able to hear the rain, I would have been happier if it waited until a more civilised time to intrude on my sleep. And it continues still, alternating with rolling thunder that echoes across the mountain that is a backdrop to this sprawling town. The main road into Greymouth is, I assume, holiday style homes on the beachfront on the outskirts. This gives way to motel style accommodation and then as you get closer to town a jumbled mixture of industrial, commercial, residential and light industrial. Whether this is due to development following the railway line, which runs through the centre of town, or the river, I am uncertain.

Memorial to miners lost.

Names covered three sides of the memorial.

There was sufficient break in the rain for us to drive into the town centre. This would normally have been a walk for us, but the rain, when it comes, is generally very heavy. There are not many landmarks to visit but the obvious one is the flood wall. Today with the brown river roiling past at great speed, the level of the water is not that far below street level. Without the flood wall, Greymouth would have been washed out to sea many years ago.

Looking to the mountains.

Out to the ocean.

The river was moving at an amazing pace to the extent where it created a swell as it moved over the riverbed. From our vantage point its swell appeared to be moving in the opposite direction to the water. I can't fathom how that is possible, but that is certainly what we thought we could see.

Not wishing to tempt the weather gods, we made haste for a coffee shop after the walk on the flood wall. Robert Harris café came recommended and did not disappoint. We sat out the front of the shop, Paris-style and enjoyed our coffee and crumble under the shelter of the awning. Despite the appalling weather, it isn't cold. The locals tell us they need the rain, something we are finding difficult to reconcile because everything we've read and out-of-towners we've spoken to say it always rains in Greymouth.

Streetscape.

I haven't been able to determine how tall the hills/mountains are behind the town because the cloud hasn't cleared for long enough. What is certain is that many of the buildings need some TLC and could do with a coat of paint. Much of the town looks old and tired, almost as if it is beyond fighting the weather and is about to give in to mother nature.

They love their cricket here in Greymouth.

Street art showing a decaying building.

After a brief stop at Liquorland to stock up for the afternoon, we returned to our unit and continued to watch the rain.

Today's random observation: New Zealand drivers are very polite and careful on the road, sometimes too reticent, and yet drive like hoons in a car park. The car in front of me at the roundabout today waited until there were no cars on the roundabout or in proximity before proceeding. Then as they reached car park sped off at a rate that cold easily endanger pedestrians. 

That is about it for Greymouth. Tonight we are dining at the 'gastropub' directly across the road so hopefully we won't get too wet getting there. It is rated the number two restaurant on Tripadvisor. Doesn't that say a lot about dining in this town? Should there be anything of interest to report I'll get back to you, like maybe they sell wine at bottle shop prices, or their mains are under $40. Tell him he's dreaming.

Ok, so I'm back, post dinner. Surprise, surprise, surprise, as Gomer Pyle used to say (google it kids). The wine was at pub prices, well almost, but not restaurant prices, which was fair because the food wasn't restaurant standard. This was the description of my main: THAI STYLED GARLIC INFUSED PRAWNS, SERVED ON TOP OF JASMINE RICE OR CAULIFLOWER RICE. TOPPED WITH A CRUNCHY PAPPADUM. AVAILABLE MILD, MEDIUM OR HOT. Sorry, I did a cut and paste, they are yelling not me. I so really wish I had photographed the dish. I opted for the jasmine rice. In the bowl it was presented thus: the usual mould of rice topped with some shoe-stringed vegetables (why? not the prawns as advertised), next to it a papadum (here spelled correctly, but NOT crunchy), and six prawns. I said medium to hot was fine. How about six prawns drowning in a cup of ... you know, I have no idea, some sweet cream, yellow curry style thing. As for the heat level, LOL, medium to hot? How about sweet to tasteless? Would not recommend.

Once, in Ireland, someone said to me that Dublin was best viewed through a rear view mirror (I like Dublin). Now I feel that epithet belongs to Greymouth. Happy to say goodbye. Won't be back.

Tomorrow we continue our trek further north in search of Nelson and fine weather. Thee rain continues here.

Until next time ...