On one of the finer days we drove north through Balclutha towards Lawrence, trying to keep to the back roads, and a little past the bridge to Clydevale came to the Tuapeka punt on the Clutha river at Tuapeka Mouth, the only punt of its kind in the southern hemisphere. It looked fascinating. It uses the flow of the river to cross from one side to the other, with one man operating a fairly complicated looking set of ropes and one large wheel. 

A sign advised us that the punt only operated between the hours of 8-10am and 4-6pm river level permitting. As it was then about 11 am we determined to continue to Lawrence then return via the road on the other side of the river, cross over on the punt and continue ‘home’ to T5.

The punt was officially opened on 22 February 1896, with 336 passengers and 255 horses being carried in the first month of its operation. The mind boggles. Tuapeka Mouth was an inland port for about 30 years until 1939 for paddle wheel steamers to and from Balclutha.

We continued on to Lawrence through beautiful sheep country with views of distant misty hills (it rained lightly almost the whole day)…

… and just outside Lawrence stopped to admire the site of the old Chinese Camp, founded in 1867 when Chinese were forbidden to live and work within the town’s boundary. With time the camp expanded to have about 100 people. The hotel, still standing, was said to be one of the best wayside hotels in Otago. The owner was a Chinese man Sam Chew Lain, who married a Scottish woman, and it chiefly catered for a European clientele. A Chinese ghost is said to have been known to successive hotel occupants.

Lawrence is chock full of cafes and semi-antique shops (“don’t call us junk!”) and full of lovely old buildings with olde worlde gardens.

The original gold-rush town, it was the home to school teacher John J. Woods who composed NZ’s national anthem. There’s a sort of statue of him, and several other town notables, in the main street. There’s an interesting little local museum, worth a visit. I spotted a whole banana-crate sized box full of local family histories, some obviously prepared many years ago. i wonder if any have been digitised and/or a catalogue prepared.

After lunch we went on a little further to Gabriel’s Gully, site of NZ’s famous gold rush. there are many walking and cycling tracks in the vicinity, and a lovely lake.

it was a little difficult, looking out over the green valley, to imagine it as it was in the gold rush heyday. Within a few months of the first discovery, thousands of mining holes chequered the valley as far as the eye can see.

But we couldn’t wait to get back to the punt! We arrived just before 4 pm and soon saw the ferryman arrive and methodically get everything under way. We were the only passengers, just as well really, also no way could we have done it with T5 in tow. I will let the photos hopefully tell the story. The ferryman was kept busy the whole time, everything was done manually.

After a few days behind a motel in Invercargill we hitched up T5 again and took the old coach road inland and east to Owaka via Mataura and Clinton (the Five Horse town – which I described in detail in a much earlier blog, so we didn’t stop to take photos this time). Not far from Owaka we settled in at the Hillview Camp Site, surrounded by grassy hills.

Nugget Point and its famous lighthouse were minutes away. I last walked the track to this lighthouse in 2000 clad in full bike riding gear including borrowed boots too large for me…. so it was a far easier scramble this time (!). It’s quite a long track winding along the top of the cliff cliff with incredible drops straight down to the sea where seals could just be spotted lazing around near  the rocks at the foot of the cliffs.

There were many more seals in the rock pools among “The Nuggets” which extend out to sea but we did not see any yellow-eyed penguins which are also feature of the area. The Point is also said to be the home of many other seabirds including gannets and spoonbills.

The views from the viewing platform beside the lighthouse are breathtaking. A little beach way below the lighthouse keeper’s house may have been his children’s playground, but how to get down there? The house can just be seen in the upper right hand corner. The lighthouse was built in 1869 and is 76 metres (250 feet) above the water. It was automated in 1989.

We also visited Kaka Point itself, a small tourist village offering “excellent swimming and surfing” – when the sun in shining(!). Even though it was mid January the beach was practically deserted. Road signs cautioned drivers to watch for penguins and fur seals crossing but we didn’t see any.

Cannibal Bay was our next stop on yet another grey cloudy day, beautiful and deserted at the end of a long narrow gravel road which twisted and turned around a headland while offering tantalising glimpses of the sea far away. A lone tree on the cliffside above the beach shows the force of the wind. A couple of oystercatchers kept the seagulls company on the rocks.

I am nearly up to date now – only two more blogs to catch up on!! We are currently back in Christchurch ….

I started typing this blog sitting in the ute waiting for the ferryman … no, I’m not about to hop off the twig, we are at the small vehicular punt at Tuapeka Mouth on the Clutha River between Balclutha and Lawrence. It’s drizzling slightly but otherwise lovely and warm, quite a change to the last few days when a very cold wind kept the temperature down.

We spent over a week in the Catlins, it’s going to take several blogs to describe it all. Yet we only saw a small part of the whole, mainly due to the weather.

When we left Oamaru we drove via Balclutha and Owaka to the eastern part of the Catlins where Dave thought the newish NZMCA camp of Niagara Falls was situated. Actually it is much closer to Waikawa so T5 thundered along the narrow never-ending coastal road in unremitting but thankfully mainly light rain for what seemed like hours, past many enticing vistas not worth stopping for in that weather. We finally reached the camp and set up T5 for the next few days. This was a very convenient place from which to explore the Catlins free from the encumbrance of towing a weighty caravan on the narrow twisty roads. A huge cabbage tree guarded the camp site.

Niagara Falls in NZ, named by a surveyor with an obvious sense of humour, are a little different in size to their North American counterpart. The river was the early settlers’ river-highway and many built their houses along the banks. They took their wool by punt from Niagara Falls to be loaded onto ships at Waikawa. The Maori name for the falls is Mangai Piri referring to the manner in which migrating lamprey eels wriggle up the falls in a mass, using their suckers to hang onto the rocks.

Driving in to Invercargill for the day, the number of ‘permanent’ white-baiting huts along the banks of the Mataura river was amazing. Some were actually on the other side of the road from the river and were even equipped with TV receivers. The main road goes over the Titiroa Stream where there are even more permanent huts. Obviously the sound of traffic does not scare off the whitebait (!).

Many of the roads in the Catlins are lined by toitoi and giant flax, the latter at this time of year all sporting huge red-brown flower spikes. Flax is also used for shelter belts instead off the more usual clipped hedges.

The grass everywhere was a brilliant green, unless it had already been harvested in which case the golden fields were often dotted with pale green ‘dinosaur eggs’, mostly stacked in neat rows with gaps between them, in contrast to the tightly packed caterpillar rows of other parts of NZ.

Near Riverton one day we spotted the latest fashion colour in marshmallows (the big ones used to feed the baby dinosaurs when they hatch …. as a friend was informed by her grandchildren).

On a day when the weather was more promising than usual, we headed back east on the main Kaka Point road, stopping off to visit McLean Falls some way before Papatowai. Named after Alexander McLean, grandson of an early Fencible recruit from Ireland who arrived in NZ in 1848. He was a farmer of considerable ability, never married, churned his own butter and made his own bread. He was also very artistic. he was very hospitable and always made visitors welcome, hence his name became attached to the Falls.

The track to the Falls would through beautiful bush (a blurred photo can give atmosphere, right?) to the lower part of the falls called the Chute, then upwards via a very narrow slippery track on which only Dave and Penny ventured.

Here’s Dave’s photo of the Falls proper:

Further on still heading east we decided to give Lake Wilkie a miss, also Cathedral Cove which we have both seen on earlier visits to the Catlins and anyway the tide was wrong for a visit. Instead we stopped off at the Purakaunui Falls. Not large but very beautiful.

We only went a little further that day, to Owaka for lunch and then a visit to the famed museum. A well-labelled display of early tools caught my eye. Do YOU know what a rabbiting adze looks like?

The shipping section had many artifacts from wrecks, of course, but it also had some interesting information such as about Captain Catlin (1792-1856) and Tommy Chasland (1797-1869), ”The best whaler in New Zealand ….  who spent a lifetime on sealing and whaling ships as well as several shore-based whaling stations. His strength and legendary telescopic vision was a useful attribute for a sealer and whaler. “

We drove back via Catlins Lake which is not really a lake but a saltwater tidal estuary, with old jetty piles from the 1870s ….

… and Florence Hill lookout from which one can view Chasland’s Mistake where en route from Port Chalmers (Dunedin) to Melbourne on 4 Dec 1876, the SS Otago was wrecked. All passengers and crew survived. The area overlooked by Florence Hill is considered a special place as it is the only place left on the east coast of  the south island where native forest fully covers a catchment from hilltops to sea. Ancient forest with trees over 1000 years old grow right down to the seashore, and large unmodified estuary wetlands line the Tautuku river.

Back to a nice dry T5 – we’d had enough of the rain for a while.

After a few days in the driveway at No. 40, and having survived an identity check by a neighbour (good for him), given the garden a good watering and enjoyed a couple of long hot showers, it was time to move on.

The things you encounter on the highway ….. like the vintage car which burbled along and held up miles and miles of traffic, and a house …

We settled in at the NZMCA park at Oamaru A&P showgrounds, a huge open space with only a few other caravans/campervans for company. In a van nearby were two dogs so Penny soon had some new friends.

The day we arrived was fine and hot, a perfect summer day. The next day was unbelievably cold with a wind straight from Antarctica, or so it felt! NZ’s changeable weather at its best.

A visit to the Steampunk museum seemed in order, but first we wandered the old Oamaru precinct. it has such an old-world feel to it, I always expect to see ladies in crinolines and gentlemen in stove pipe hats – as indeed there are but only on Festival days. We really will have to time our visits better. There are some very enticing shops, and also a plethora of old bookshops where it is lovely to see old books and magazines spread out in enticing displays instead of all jammed together as in post-quake Christchurch. Lots of bargains too.

We also had a brief look at the waterfront and discovered a number of veteran and vintage cars, which we later learnt were on their way to a big rally in Dunedin. Among them was a shiny black Chevrolet with whitewall tyres which had Dave in raptures as it was almost the same model his father had owned many years ago, except that this one was a coupe.

The museum – well, what can one say. Dark and mysterious and fairly enticing but only just. The one magic thing was the Portal; you enter through a controlled doorway and for about 4 minutes stand mesmerised by a magical display of coloured lights.

More stuff from inside the museum:

Outside in the yard was more, including our new car, and some gigantic flies on the wall:

One of the best displays is at the front of the museum, a gigantic steam engine – sort of. For 2 dollars you can get the monster to emit some flames and clouds of steam. All very well on that freezing day but by then all I could think of was some hot coffee and – yes, really – a shared bowl of hot chips. Just the thing.

Next day we thought to visit the Library so we could catch up on various Facebook videos and post a blog. Which I did. We returned to T5 via the Whitestone cheese factory and succumbed to a herbed muffin with a generous portion of melting brie inside. which was just as well because when we returned to T5 we could not find the door key!!! AND only that morning I’d been reading in a blog about someone who’d lost a hearing aid and had a whole camp-full of people searching for it (yes it was found eventually, stuck to the underside of the car dashboard). No such luck with our keys, but at least we did have a spare set. After retracing our steps to the library and cheese factory and visiting the police station just in case, we had a new set of keys cut which will be kept in a “safe place”.

After a quick revisit to the police station next morning we were off heading for the Catlins. It rained most of the way so no photos (so far!) but we are hoping the weather forecast for the next few days is accurate.

We were not intending to do another homesit for a while, but spend a quiet Christmas in Christchurch with Dave’s family. But a personal message to us from the kiwihomesitters website was so enticing that when I showed it to Dave he just said a slightly reluctant “Yes”. The message began with … “A sanctuary in the country but not too far from the city of Christchurch. Our home in a park like setting needs an amazing couple to enjoy its spaciousness while we are away for two weeks ….. the stars at night are glorious out here…. come and relax or enjoy a project to two around the place.”

So that is how we ended up looking after a lovely lifestyle-block type home and animals at Swannanoa just to the north of Christchurch for two and a half weeks over Christmas. One old border collie named Scott, 6 young cattle, 10 goldfish and 4 chooks plus a large garden all seemed happy under our attention.

Dave was kept busy shifting the huge irrigation sprinklers and occasionally the cattle, and feeding them barley mash every evening. He got the ride-on mower working again, and twice took a small trailer to collect more barley mash from a neighbouring distributor. Mash is the dregs from beer brewing – which still smelled and probably tasted of beer – was it just that which attracted the cattle so much rather than us?

One heifer took a liking to Penny and followed her when she chased her ball. Hilarious.

I was happy feeding the chooks, so nice not to have to throw out all our stale bread, vegetable scraps etc – no compost bin with a caravan – and pruning the roses, working the veggie garden and occasionally pulling a weed or two until my back started to complain. It was glorious to have such a huge kitchen to play around in, with a full sized wall oven and a dishwasher. Also being able to use a huge en suite with big walk-in shower every day!! Plus there was unlimited broadband.

We held a lunch party fort Dave’s sister’s birthday, it was a dull rainy day so our plans for a garden party setting were thwarted but the big farm table easily seated the nine people who attended. The chooks were supplying lots of huge eggs so I made a quiche as well as a big chocolate cake with sinful ganache icing (half dark chocolate, half cream) topped with a big fistful of raspberries from a nearby farm. The raspberries, strawberries and cherries at OUR farm had by then been seriously depleted, mainly by the owners and their four boys I hasten to add.

We became so familiar with the surrounding countryside through drives to Rangiora (mostly) for shopping that we began to feel like locals. We investigated a swimming hole on the Waimak but did not venture in.

A few times we drove into Christchurch to check out developments in the city and visit Alison. There’s still a long way for the city to go to become beautiful again. I just wish “they” would make up their minds about the Cathedral. At least some old facades are being retained although what will be built behind will doubtless be a trifle more modern. Graffiti flourishes, some not all so bad.

Meanwhile sale of our Christchurch home has stalled; despite four Open Days there were only two low offers and we have decided to hang on a little longer in the hope that post-Christmas things will improve.

Currently we are actually parked in the driveway of our old home, now untenanted, while Dave mows the lawn and we do some tidying up of the garden and a few other odd chores like repairing a toilet roll holder which had mysteriously become detached after the tenants had departed, and bits of extra cleaning here and there. The garden is responding strongly to some occasional watering by us over the last month, it’s amazing what a little TLC (and some rain as well) can do.

Our plan for the next week or so is to head south via Oamaru (and the Steam Punk Museum) for the Catlins before the big tourism rush in February starts. Until our home is sold or we decide to withdraw it from sale and put tenants back in, we cannot plan very far ahead. We still hope to tour Australia for at least six months next winter.

No this is not about the musical. According to Dave I am now a “Crazy Cat Lady Wannabee”.

Recently we visited our two beloved Burmese cats at their foster home in Christchurch where they have spent the last two years having a lovely time with a family of four. Oscar and Georgie remembered us, it was obvious – our wonderful cats. They are now nine years old. Which has started a bout of reminiscencing.

Since I first arrived in NZ in 2000 we have owned a succession of Burmese or part-Burmese cats – first Saba (who did not know how to climb trees and came from the Cat Protection Society), then Aza (a gorgeous blue with amazing golden eyes) and then Rex (a very cute little cat with one bad habit, he sucked on everything in sight particularly a visitor’s new possum-wool socks and scarf). The latter two were good friends so when Aza had to be put down with spinal cancer at a young age, Rex went looking everywhere for his mate including the road outside where he never normally ventured, and was struck down by a car. it was devastating losing two cats within a few days, but before too long we were looking for some Burmese kittens.

We heard of a litter of six with just one seal coloured male (which we both wanted); they were far too young to leave their mother so for the next four weeks or so we visited them weekly at the breeder’s, rather like new parents visiting their premature babies in hospital. The little seal boy, less adventurous and more timid than his sisters, was named Oscar and his pretty cream sister was originally going to be called Lucinda, after the title of Peter Carey’s book, but her official pedigree name of Georgie Girl seemed to suit her far better. Officially Georgie was a lilac burmese but as she aged it became obvious she was a ‘chocolate’. (Unfortunately all the photos I would love to post here are in storage). 

Oscar has always been the more cautious, thoughtful one and Georgie the rush-in-and-find-out-later one.

Georgie got on particularly well with the fox terrier puppy we obtained about three years later; Oscar was always more stand-offish. All three used to curl up together in one basket (ditto re photos – this is frustrating!). When Penny injured a leg and had to wear a ‘collar’ for a while, Georgie kept her company.

Until we started our travels, Georgie and Penny often played chasing throughout the house. Sometimes Penny became rather too exuberant but Georgie never retaliated. If Penny tried to play with Oscar he would just give her a swipe (claws in) and that was that.

Oscar loved to explore, which was his undoing. when he was a few years old a neighbouring dog grabbed hold of one leg as he was making his getaway over a fence, or so we surmise. Surgery for a dislocated hip plus “bed rest’ in a cage for weeks was his lot. We put the large cage onto a wheeled table so he could sleep in our bedroom and supervise me cooking in the kitchen and watch TV with us in the evenings in the warm living room.

He recovered rapidly but within six months was back in the cage this time with the head of the femur broken off completely. Patched up again by the wonderful Steve at Aldwin’s Rd. Vets, after the obligatory cage incarceration he was soon resuming his former life, jumping fences and all. Today he only has the barest limp if at all. Yet he has no hip joint on one side!

Georgie meanwhile was doing well until one day I noticed her eyes were looking distinctly weird, glowing with reflected light rather like a space alien. It turned out that she had a rare inherited condition called hyperchylomicronemia caused by excessive fatty substances in the blood. Oscar also had it very mildly. Treatment was simple – a permanent low fat diet (previously I was feeding them mainly raw meat). There have been no recurrences and both cats have been very healthy ever since.

We did briefly consider bringing one of both of them with us in the caravan. A condition of that would have been having them both harness trained. Georgie didn’t like the harness much but was fairly acquiescent, but Oscar refused point blank to be subjected to such indignity, and simply became comatose if the harness was put on him. There are a couple of videos on the web of other cats behaving similarly – being dragged along, totally limp. Oscar however did one better.

Stop attempting to drag him along and he would suddenly twist and turn and be out of the harness in a flash, no matter how tight we made it. Houdini had nothing on him. So – the decision to try to find them a foster home was not difficult to make. Finding the home was; it was only at the eleventh hour that a chance remark to my eye specialist bore fruit. (She has since won a competition for “The most unusual present given by a patient.” – two adult cats !!)

I can’t wait for the day when we can once again offer them a home. This photo was taken just before we took them their foster home.

OUR LOVE AND  BEST WISHES TO ALL OUR READERS

FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS

AND A SAFE AND JOYOUS NEW YEAR

Have caravan will travel – so what is the point of staying in one place all the time? So while we wait with fingers crossed for our Christchurch home to be sold, we took off for a few days in and around Geraldine. We’d heard about a great POP called Peski’s just outside Geraldine and it turned out to be wonderful. A large private property offered ample parking, bush walks, a washing machine and shower etc and delightful owners who showered us with lettuce and rhubarb from the extensive garden.

There is the bush walk which goes down to the river.

We parked up beside a grove of gum trees (prophetic perhaps as we hope to tour Australia in 2016?) When playing with Penny’s ball it somehow became lodged between the spokes of Dave’s bicycle. Penny couldn’t find it for ages.

Determined to explore, we set off one day in the ute for nearby Waihi Gorge but a sign said No Dogs so we headed off for Te Moana Gorge instead. We knew there were a couple of camping spots somewhere along the road, and a very long gravelled road it turned out to be, narrow and twisty, through bush and pine forest.  Not for a large caravan like T5.

We found three reasonably flat and open camping grounds, but the nearby creek was infested with didymo which left white rims round the rocks when they dried out and would have made playing in the creek unsuitable for young children.

We went right to the end of the Te Moana road, through the gorge and upwards again, past a couple of remote dwellings and finally reached the end – a big locked gate to some privately owned forest lots.

Although the weather was not very good we decided to take a day trip to Tekapo. It seemed strange to be driving the familiar road without our boat in tow. We inspected the new NZMCA camp on the lake foreshores. ….

….. and viewed with some awe all the recent building developments in the township. The new bridge is quite imposing.

But the most important thing to see was of course the lupins. Although a little past their prime, they still glowed and lightened up the dull day. The number along the roads seems to have decreased a little but there were still magnificent patches including a spot on the road towards Mt. St. John where Penny spent a happy time chasing after – what?

We thought we’d go to the Observatory cafe for lunch but the sight of a newly introduced road toll for the steep climb deterred us. Fair enough, that road must need a great deal of maintenance, but the views on that particular day were not likely to be very extensive. An indifferent lunch at a newish cafe in Tekapo sufficed.

We headed back for Geraldine but turned off to explore the hinterland around Pleasant Point and find the signposted “Hanging Rock”. After a long drive on gravel roads we found it beside a bridge over the Ophir river. There were also a couple of ducks and some wildflowers. It was a very dull overcast day, not exactly a photographer’s ideal.

Quite by accident we discovered a wonderful cafe just past the hanging rock bridge. Cafe 1882 is part of an old sandstone homestead once belonging to several generations of a local pioneering family (of course) but this one had links to the early freezing industry down near Timaru. Cattle were brought up to this area to overwinter. There is also a small vineyard. We sampled their pinot noir – delicious – but only available to cafe patrons. Their Death by Chocolate brownie was to die for. We will go there again!

The bed of the Ophir River was awash with wildflowers so next day, with slightly better light, we went back for another look. This time we drove right down onto the river bed and had a lovely time photographing everything in sight.

Then Dave decided to drive a little closer to the hanging rock on the other side of the river, and on the way there we hit a small gully hidden by overgrowth and got stuck. It took 2 hours and much hard slog with shovel, balloon jack and multiple use of the normal jack, plus some considerable rearrangement of the river bed under the wheels, before we got free.

In all that time not a single car went over the distant bridge. A lone fisherman came walking along with his dog, but he only had a small car parked well away.

With bad weather threatening we left Peski’s with regret next day and made it back to the chestnut orchard just in time to set up T5 before the hail started.

After a week or so in Christchurch (and several loads of washing done at Alison’s – thank you!) we were off again.

Since I first saw scurry racing at the Hororata Games two years ago I’ve been keen to see more, and finally we found ourselves in the right place (Canterbury) at the right time. As the racing was over a whole weekend we took T5 with us, and after much trial and error and a surprise trip through the yard of a riding school as it was impossible to turn round at the end of the wrong narrow road, we found the View Hill Domain near Oxford and such a lovely sight – seeming hundreds of ponies (actually about 25) of all shapes and sizes. Horse boxes, carts and light carriages and electric-fenced-off small yards dotted the perimeter on two sides. As it was a public Domain (park) we were free to take T5 right in and park under the trees on one side, but when racing finished for the day at 3 pm and we realised we couldn’t get a signal on the TV, decided to go on to Sheffield for the night and return next day in the ute.

The first day was a fun day, most ponies and carts sported christmassy decorations, and the obstacle courses had christmas themes. We did not arrive till lunch time so missed most of the early races. No matter, what we saw whetted our photographic appetites for more – much more!

Back next morning, the serious stuff had begun. This was to select representatives for the national racing at the Oxford A&P Show on 2nd April next year.

Many people had more than one pony and/or more than one cart/carriage. Two competitors had come down from the north island, one of them with a matching pair of greys pulling an elegant carriage. There were fat little ponies pulling people almost as large as them, sleek Welsh cobs, gorgeous piebalds, and one showy black which seemed to have high-stepped straight out of Rotten Row in Victorian England. Some of the ‘carts ‘ were truly elegant, made in NZ or Australia or even imported from the UK.

Only one accident could have marred the day when an ultra-light carriage tipped out both occupants on a turn and the horse bolted, but there was no damage to anything or anyone apart from pride. Dave snapped them just before the tipping-out point.

We stayed at the back of the Sheffield Hotel for two nights, a surprisingly OK campground with a shower and toilet and power which didn’t always work. We had dinner at he Hotel one night, there were two huge party groups but they managed to squeeze us in and the food was delightful. I was impressed by the table decorations and the atmosphere in general and would recommend the restaurant for a meal on the way back from Arthurs Pass although Sheffield being off the main route back to town probably misses out on much of the through traffic.

So back to an increasingly green chestnut orchard for a few days. A  Facebook entry from an Irish friend showed some of the trauma teddies I knitted recently (the ones with tasselled scarves) plus some knitted by other people. Good to know they made the trip to Ireland safely and are now hopefully with refugee children.

Scurry racing NZ has a Facebook page with lots more action photos.

Here’s a video I found on Youtube from 2013: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwTu3nJqAW0

Everyone has seen photos of monsoon buckets dangling underneath helicopters, but the opportunity to get up close probably doesn’t happen often. So it was rather exciting to see them being repeatedly filled almost under our noses! But sobering too to think of what they were fighting, and of the damage which had already occurred.

We were driving back from a day visit to Picton when we noticed a huge pall of smoke over the mountains to the northwest. That evening the news was about a huge forest fire (and one man’s retirement investment up in smoke, poor guy) plus homes threatened in the Waikakaho Valley.

Next day although sunny the wind blew fiercely and we thought we might get some photos a bit closer. After a few false starts we discovered a track off a back road which led to the Wairau River. Better still there was access to the stop bank and we were able to walk right up to where the monsoon buckets were being filled.

There were up to six helicopters in the air at one time, and another was seen to arrive. The skill of the pilots left me breathless. I lost count of the number of times each helicopter came shooting towards the river towing an empty bucket, turned into the wind and came down slowly to hover while the bucket filled, then off again post haste towards the fire. We watched them for hours.

We could not see any flames but it was clear the fire was still raging and moving up the valley.

Next day even stronger winds were forecast, up to 160km/hr. Thankfully there was also some rain. It was difficult to see in the gloom but it did appear the fire had gone down considerably.

Later news reports said the fire covered 450 hectares and there were at least 40 firefighters on the ground.

Most of the trees which were burnt would have been ready for harvesting in the next two years.  Fire authorities estimated the damage and cost to fight the blaze could reach $$ million NZ dollars.