Grand Tour South IX

After a couple of days rest, the spider reluctantly snuffled into life to continue its journey north. We stopped for photos at Moeraki and lunch at Oamaru. I like Oamaru, I like the distinctive white stone buildings dominate the wide streets which seem free of the tacky shopping centre developments that blight so many main streets. I even like the word Oamaru. It’s much more laid back than the city, at the zebra crossings the sign on the curb doesn’t stay “Stop! Look Before You Step!” it simply says “Pause”. Whether it is to look for traffic or just an invitation to take a moment to admire the lovely buildings, it does not say.

Highway 83 must be one of the best drives in this world. Turning inland just past Oamaru (couldn’t resist using it again) it follows the Waitaki river, climbing from the coastal plains, the river keeps out of sight so you can admire the green fields and distant mountain ranges until you get to Lake Aviemore where the blue glacial water surrounded by trees drags your attention away. It is tourist brochure scenery, blue skies, matching blue water dotted with white sails and speedboat wakes, stuck behind a Honda Odyssey whose driver seemed to consider anything over 75 k’s on a straight road was tantamount to suicide, it gave me time to soak it all in. Further up the valley past Lake Benmore (and past the Honda), the landscape changes, the trees and bush fall away and the broom and lupins take over, the mountains start to dominate, we are entering McKenzie Country. Highway 83 ends at Omarama, the air is hot, dry and clear. Gliders circle above, trying to catch the thermals and updraughts from the mountains. Left is the Lindis Pass but we turn right across the high country plateau, flat for miles but surrounded by frosted peaks. Lake Pukaki with its opaque china blue water looks strange like someone got his colour chart wrong when they ordered the water. We cruise into Tekapo as the sun heads towards the horizon for our first night under canvas (or rip stop nylon). We pitch the tent overlooking Lake Tekapo, a beautiful spot with mountains in the distance surrounding the blue glacial lake fringed with purple and blue lupins. The only thing disturbing the perfect serenity is the damn jet boats. Southern Man may think that the constant drone of an unmuffled V8 at 5,000 RPM is music to the ears or maybe after a lifetime of unmuffled jet boats he can’t hear the thing running but to everyone else it’s bloody annoying. As the sun leaves the campground the temperature starts to drop fast so we head to bed. At 9pm in the deep deep twilight the last jet boat shuts off it’s engine, silence reigns.