Otago Peninsula

I arrived yesterday afternoon, through pouring rain from Milford Sound. Sylvia was my Airbnb host and luckily for me, she was as happy for my company as I was for hers, so we played scrabble and drank elderflower tea all evening. I'll always remember her as the lady who cared enough to try and fix my cough, taught me how to Wordle and had the most encouraging words on finding love and happiness later in life. 

Pity she is about to be overshadowed. LOL  Because today my heart and lens were to be filled with glorious wildlife experiences and honestly there is nothing I like more!

Driving out to the far reaches of Otago Peninsula, I went in search of Sandfly Bay. Here, rumor had it, was the place to find sealions. And I did!

The trail down the cliff and over the dunes is breathtaking. And worth it. Before I even reached the bottom there was a lazy sealion sleeping in the middle of my path, causing detours. On the beach 2 younger (or 2 females?) were cavorting. A photographers dream.

The arrival of an older male made it even better. So I spent another hour just "being" and watching them.

I had booked a Little Blue penguin tour for the after-dark portion of today and this afternoon went looking for where the meeting point would be later. Turns out it meets at the same place you'd go for a Royal Albatross experience ... so I booked that for 6pm. (Note: Albatross' with their giant wing span are more active when the wind kicks up and that is later in the day.)

Just enough time to go in search of cell reception and get my daily call with Scott! :-)

No sooner had I hung up from that call, parked randomly on the side of the bay, when a lady pulled up in her car and began tooting the horn to get my attention. She told that my van gave me away as a tourist and as such, she thought I might want to see the WHALE that was out there!!! Yes Ma'am!!!

I grabbed my big lens and pointed in the direction she said it was moving. Before long, the sound of tail-slapping got my attention and low and behold; evidence of an orca was intermittant. What was pure luck was the very second I had my camera focused out there, the orca breached and I shot one of my more priceless series of pictures. I was giddy with joy!

It was hard to believe my day could or would get any better but off I went to the head of the peninsular to learn about the albatross and the little blue penguin... and my day did get better.

Who doesnt love the sight of a penguin emerging from the ocean and waddling up the bank? They are adorable!

I drove out of Dunedin at 10:30pm, climbing the hills in dense fog and eventually unable to drive any further, coming to a rest at what I thought was a quiet parking area just off the highway. Turns out I slept at the bus stop for the Evansdale Cheese Factory! Whatever!

Milford Sound... One of my favorites!

 The original loosey-goosey plan was for me to toddle about in Queenstown today and leisurely make my way to Milford Sound tomorrow. You'll know by now that I have developed a great deal of trust and respect for my weather app though, so when it informed me that Milford today would be ok, but Milford Sound tomorrow would be abysmal, I changed things up.

342km and more than 5 hours later, I had traveled the scenic roads from Wanaka to Milford Sound. Along the way stopping to photograph all the interesting things I could.

I had even picked up a Californian hitchhiker 45 mins out of Te Anau and driven her to her hotel - grateful for the break from my well-worn Spotify playlist and the chit-chat we had.

I remembered the tunnel going to Milford, Homer Tunnel, from my last visit in 1993. But I guess in my mind I figured it would be different this time. Less ...rustic? Nope. Still one lane with a steep descent through a mountain. Still feels like you're entering a mineshaft! Water runs through it, it's dark and closed in feeling. Today was no exception. But it was also busy. Lots of other vehicles, including tour buses.

Making my way through, and slowly descended into Milford, the day was nice and the landscape was dramatic. My happy place.

Once there I poked around a bit, taking my time and absorbing that Milford-Miter Peak energy that I love. 

At 8:30pm, as I was on my way out, something caught my eye. Remember how I said I tried to find the rare and elusive white heron on the west coast a couple of days ago? Well, there was ONE pottering around in the bay after sunset! About 100-120 white herons call NZ home.  After mating season, they disburse a bit and it is more common to find a single bird feeding in shallow water than a flock. That's what I was seeing, and the fading light, I did my best with a 600mm zoom to capture this fortuitous find!

Then I hightailed it back up the winding narrow road and through the Homer Tunnel (which was empty now) and found myself a parking lot where the Routeburn Track begins. In the dark I was able to creep in beside a dozen other van-like vehicles, use a real bathroom and call it a night. 

What a long day! 

Oh and guess what? At 3am I woke to LOUD torrential rain on the roof of my van. Just as the weather app had predicted; the weather was taking a seriously negative turn overnight and had I waited one more day to see Milford Sound, I would not have seen it at all!

Wanaka

 My bucket list item for Wanaka was the Roy's Peak hike. However, that hike is for the view mostly. Its a hard, steep trail and 6 hours round trip to boot so when it turned out to be low overcast this morning, I delayed my start. That ol' weather app told me that 10am would be a sweet spot for the parting of the clouds.

Instead I went to Wanaka Lake and set my sights on an early morning Wanaka Tree visit. What is the Wanaka Tree? Why, it's Wanaka's most famous tree! A willow with the ordacity to grow all alone, out in the lake. A striking sillouette against a dramatic backdrop of lake and mountains. Everyone wants a picture of the Wanaka tree!

Eventually it was time to try that hike. I'd like to say I got to the peak, but I didn't even make it to the lookout (almost!) though, before calling it. The clouds came and went, as did the view, but mostly, I was just exhausted. Long days on the road, a steep trail and relentless cough had come home to bite me. I took my weathered self down the trail and by the time I reached the parking lot, realized my knees were also not up for this hike. C'est la vie. It's ok to revise goals! 

I changed mine to indulging in dulce de leche ice cream from the award winning Patagonia cafe and strolling through an art market before taking a seat on the pebbly beach of Wanaka Lake downtown.

Tonight, I had a room booked near here... a place to shower, food prep and get a good nights sleep. I was looking forward to a little not-camping time at Emma's house.

Wanaka Lake tranquility

 Haast Pass was a quiet inland overnight place for me. Aside from the 1000 sandfly bites that had me scratching skin off myself and spraying repellent copiously around the footwell of the driver's seat, I was enjoying view and thriving on the smell of the damp forest. 

This morning I made a random stop at the Blue Pools and took a hike that was a bit longer than anticipated but filled with native bird photography opportunities.

The glacier water here glows blue. It's clear water apart from "rock flour" within. The fine rock and mineral dust suspended causes light to reflect blue-ish. It's eye-catching and compelling and I couldn't stop photographing. 

The weather was improving and by early afternoon as I drove up and over to Wanaka Lake, the landscape was colorful and the air was so warm... so welcomingly warm! 

I took the road less traveled (I.E. gravelly, dusty and bumpy) along the back side of the lake. Delighting in a New Zealand traffic jam or two. Here, the animals have right of way - or at least they are stubborn and brave enough to demand it.

I surprised myself by driving by a tree'd town-run campground at Albert Town and swerving suddenly to enter. It simply looked nice. People were parked, playing and picnicking and that seemed a good fit for resting and journaling... my full and complete plan for the rest of the evening. Here's how it went:

Me: Can I stay here?

Attendant: Sure can. Just you and the camper? $12. Go on in, find a place you like and park. We have everything you need here. 

So I did. And as I wrote and looked a pics, I also watched little kids race around on teeny bikes, a dog fetching a colored ball, men shooting the breeze as they grilled and a line of people at dusk, walking and brushing their teeth. Tall trees gave me shade as I sat in my folding chair, the sound of the river in the background, a large plate of salad in my lap. Bliss. 

Poetry that surprises, don't you think?

Touch her slowly.

Not like you’re chasing something.

Like you’ve arrived.

Like you took your shoes off at the door of her soul.

She has already known hurried hands.

She has known wanting without listening.

She has known mouths full of promises

and hearts that left before morning.

So come different.

Touch her the way dawn touches tiled rooftops in Shiraz.

Quiet.

Almost shy.

As if light itself is asking permission.

Do not rush toward her body.

Start with your voice.

Let your words fall beside her

like petals that forgot how to be heavy.

Say her name the way travelers say water.

Say it like it matters.

She is not something to win.

She is a whole sky pretending to be human.

Look at her the way old poets looked at the moon.

Not for beauty alone

but for the ache inside it.

See the places she learned to be brave.

See the small tired corners of her smile.

See how she carries storms behind her ribs

and still pours tea with steady hands.

When you touch her,

make it feel ceremonial.

Let your fingers speak in prayers.

Let your palms remember ancient rivers.

Move like you’re holding a fragile secret,

not a body.

She doesn’t need to be handled.

She needs to be held.

Softness is not weakness.

Softness is a language kings forgot.

Touch her like the ocean touches land.

Again and again.

No demands.

Only presence.

Let desire rise slowly,

like incense smoke curling toward heaven.

Not fire that burns and disappears.

Something deeper.

Something that stays warm long after.

Let her feel that you are here.

Not halfway.

Not checking clocks.

Not thinking ahead.

Give her your hours.

Give her your listening.

Give her the quiet parts of yourself.

Sit with her stories.

Even the tangled ones.

Especially the tangled ones.

Learn the pauses between her sentences.

That’s where she hides the truth.

Don’t offer her scraps of attention.

Offer her stillness.

Offer her your full, imperfect focus.

The kind that makes time loosen its grip.

She has been touched before.

Yes.

By hands that hurried.

By voices that echoed.

By love that left coats on chairs

and never came back.

So be the one who stays.

Be the touch that doesn’t fade by morning.

Be the memory that feels like shelter.

Be the moment she carries

when the world gets loud.

Touch her like rain touching dust.

Like candlelight finding dark rooms.

Like something holy remembering its way home.

And when you leave her side,

leave her softer.

Leave her braver.

Leave her knowing

she was not just desired.

She was seen.

She was honored.

She was held in a way

that changed the shape of her heart.

~ Larson Langston

Fox Glacier to Haast

Moderate rain from the get-go today meant I had to cancel my Fox Glacier hike. But quintessential east coast weather meant I had the perfect opportunity for moody greyscale photography.

I stopped at Bruce Bay to make van-coffee and eat date loaf while eggs boiled on my campstove. 

The sea was grey-green and agreeable. It was definitely peaceful and while I considered getting "real accommodation", at this time, my serene self feels reluctant to give up a more natural setting despite the compelling idea of a hot shower.

I got some good advice at the Haast Visitor Center (and bought a couple of things to support the local conservation causes) then kept driving. There was no white heron sighting for me at NZ's only white heron breeding site and I continued straight south to Jackson Bay - where pricey-but-worth-it fish'n'chips were to be my reward.  The Cray Pot closed at 3pm and I was motivated!

Dang! Chris was not wrong... this was some worthwhile tucker! My belly was full, happy and warm.

I slept on the side of the road (kinda) somewhere along Haast Pass. Wood pigeons were my companions. So beautiful!