An Eventful Afternoon in Waimate

Catch-up (mid Nov 2019)- Gordon Bennett! Is it that long ago, just feels like yesterday. Here's the last blog from our stay at Glenavy before we headed up to Lake Benmore for Christmas & New Year.

I wanted to check out the murals on the sides of the Waimate Silos so I took myself on an afternoon tiki-tour. I thought I'd drive to Waimate 23kms away, then head up the Waitaki Valley, cross the river to Kurow and come back down the other side. 

The last time we stopped in the area was way back in 2013 on our very first trip to the South Island, we stayed at the recently opened Waimate NZMCA Park and explored some of the area, including driving nearby Meyers Pass where I was very excited to see for the first time, a few spindly lupins in flower & another first, a dead wallaby! 

The silos were a blank canvas back then, they have only recently been painted, in May 2018.

I stopped on the roadside on the way into Waimate to take some photos of a large wheat field. You can't see it in the photos but I love the rippling movement and the rustling of the wheat as the wind swishes the ripening stalks back & forth. I also spotted a flock of green finches having a feast in the middle of the field. They were very skittish, chattering as they tried to settle, then lifting off every few seconds as the wind spooked them. 

And then when I looked around I could see why, I thought I'd better get my skates on, a massive dirty great black cloud was settling right over Waimate township.

Although by the time I got to town the dark brooding cloud had moved over to the hills behind.

Great I thought, I had time to walk the silo loop, a pedestrian loop that circles the outside of Transport Waimate's business premises and where you can view the murals, read all about them and not get in the way of the comings and goings of the businesses' stock trucks and other vehicles. Although I had to wait it out several times to capture a clean shot with no vehicles in the view. 

The silo project was the idea of  Transport Waimate's boss who commissioned Waimate artist, Bill Scott, to paint a number of local heroes on the silos. Click on the photo to read the history behind the silos & the people depicted in the murals.

I had just set off along the back of the loop when that big black cloud came back and dumped a solid sheet of rain on the town. Luckily I managed to scramble back to the ute and get inside just before it bucketed down. 

I sat the rain out for 10 minutes or so and after it had passed returned to finish the pedestrian loop.

The next local hero was 'Big Norm', Norman Kirk, a former New Zealand Prime Minister (who is walking hand-in-hand with Moana Priest). 

I wonder how many of you can recall where you were when you heard that Norman Kirk had died? I can. For some reason it has stuck in my head for over 45 years.  I had just gained my drivers license and was allowed to take the family car, a Holden HQ stationwagon, from the farm down to our local shops to collect the Sunday paper (and Dad's Park Drive tobacco).  Splashed across the paper's front page was the news of  Norman Kirks sudden death. I remember being shocked and when I got home, running up the path and calling the news out to the others before I'd even got into the house. 

And the last two figures are a tribute to two well respected local men that led by example; Michael Studholme & Chief Te Huruhuru.

There is another mural on the back wall of the silo buildings, one of another Waimate hero (heroine), Stella Chamberlain (a stellar lady?).  

This was one incredible lady, click on the photo to read her story. Stella certainly deserves a medal not only for her 35 year dedication to the Waimate Rugby Club but for having 13 children of her own to look after too!   

There are several more murals on the walls around town and I stopped to look at a few of them on my way to the next photo subject.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I pulled out back onto the main street, that big black cloud was heading our way again.

I'd taken photos of some of Waimate's historic buildings on my last visit but there was one I had overlooked, Quinns Arcade. I shot around the back of town and stopped to shoot the arcade as the cloud rumbled closer.

Quinns Arcade was built in 1906 from Makikihi bricks that were fired at William Quinn's brickworks, north of Waimate. The Arcadia included two dozen shops, twelve each side of a wide passage that led through to High Street. In 1920 Quinns Arcade became a picture theatre but it also didn't last very long.

I've photographed the magnificent St Patrick's Basilica before but thought I'd grab another shot before I headed back through town.

And that was when all hell broke loose. The cloud had moved right over the top of the town and started dumping massive great big hail stones on the main street. I pulled over as soon as I could as the noise on the ute was horrific and the wipers couldn't keep up.

The noise was ten times worse on top of the shop verandas, the road was covered and the gutters overflowing with melt water, solid lumps of ice and huge hail stones.

People came out from the shops and buildings to take photos & stare in wonder (or was it shock) at such a ferocious hail storm. I worried that the stones were going to smash the windscreen or dent the bonnet. The force was incredible & when I did move out from under cover to take a few photos, I ended up getting stung by hundreds of hail stones pinging me on the face, head & hands. 

And then just like that, it was gone...

...leaving the street covered in a thick layer of icy ball bearings. It was amazing how many people still chose to drive through while the storm was raging. Really, you could not see more than a few feet in front of you, my wipers on full speed could not keep up, and the road was as slippery as.....well, ice. 

Safe in the knowledge that the big black cloud was moving in the opposite direction I headed off up the Waitaki Valley, stopping for a brief look at the Waimate NZMCA Park on my way out of town...

...which looked one heck of a lot different to our stay there 6 years previous.

The Waimate Gorse...I mean Gorge, was an sea of yellow on both sides and right the way through. Once the land gets like this and the gorse takes over there's not much luck in returning it to native bush or grazing land. And seed from this lot would produce hundred of thousands more plants every season; what's that old adage, one year's seeds, 7 years weeds.

Uh-oh! Half way up the valley big fat icy blotches started pummeling the windscreen again.

And for the second time that day I had to pull over and sit out another terrific hail storm which had just as much intensity and power as the last one. It looked like the cloud had done another circuit. Afterwards I took some photos of a nearby ploughed paddock covered in ice and vehicle tracks in the ice. I was not far from a historic cob cottage (bottom left) which was built in 1880 from Penticotico clay & tussock. The hail stones lay on the grass path and around the cottage like snow.

As it turned out this was one day before a huge hail storm devastated Timaru (just 45kms north) leaving behind a $83 million insurance bill. Amongst the wide spread damage, car yards and vehicle dealerships had every vehicle on their yards dented and damaged. All I could think of was the local strawberry fields (which Waimate is well know for) with their ripening fruit.

I drove over the new Waitaki River bridge into Kurow and stopped for a cup of tea at a nearby rest area. The last time we crossed the river here the bridge was a rickety old one way bridge that looked to be about to collapse. If you check the link out at the beginning of this blog you'll see a photo of it. 

From Kurow I headed down the valley on the other side of the river, stopping at the Takiroa rock art site, a historic Maori site where there are several drawings on the wall under an overhang of rock.

We've seen several Maori art sites in the district, including one on a private farm where we were staying. It was hard to make these ones out as they had been damaged before the protection fences had gone up.

There was one more place I wanted to check out before heading home. At Black Point I turned down a  narrow pot holed farm track towards the river. I'm heading to Bortons Ponds, part of the Lower Waitaki Irrigation Scheme, where water is drawn from the river, held in the ponds and then distributed via canals to the Waitaki Plains.  During peak season 1.4 million m3 of water passes through the scheme daily. 

I'd heard about this place a very long time ago and if Mary is reading this now she'll kill me next time we cross paths. She spoke of it in very hushed tones and rather vaguely when I pressed her for more information. I don't miss much and I stored the name in the back of my memory box for next time we were in the area. 

Mary and her friends (and other people in the know) freedom camp here around the ponds, there are several areas where you could camp (I can find no reference that you're not allowed but don't blame me if you get moved on) It's a very peaceful place and I'd imagine the locals come to picnic and swim here in the summer. 

The scheme also supplies Oamaru with water so don't go peeing in it! 

And that was that, it was time to move on. My beloved lupins were about to flower! Mackenzie Country was calling, Lake Tekapo here we come.

Bluff Blows Us Away

The Bluff Oyster Festival started off well and good; blue sky & sunshine with just a chilly breeze to remind us that this was Bluff after all, Bluff at the bottom of the South Island, Bluff in the middle of May with winter fast approaching, Bluff on the edge of the Antarctic & don’t you forget it! But that was fine we went prepared, rugged up with jackets, hats, boots & scarves, & we went early. The occupants of this van had high hopes too.

Dozens of motorhomes, buses & caravans had overnighted along the harbour edge near the venue, the local camp ground was overflowing with RVs too. We stayed on in Invercargill, initially we were going to catch the festival bus to Bluff but instead we took the rental car my two girlfriends had arrived in. They had flown down from Tauranga to see me & to attend the Oyster Festival. We met many people in motorhomes at our camp site and also people sitting with us in the marquee who had made a special trip to the festival, most of them from the North Island. And most spending a tidy sum on flights, accommodation & rentals.

Puffer jackets and boots reigned supreme inside the festival. I’m sure the size of the crowd appeared double what it was, it was wall-to-wall puffer jackets; dozens of people looking like Michelin men, bouncing off each other in their “fat suits” as they squeezed through the crowds and past the queues for food.

We started early. This was fortunate as it turned out. And, well, there was nothing else to do but sample the wares so we did. We’d also heard they had run out of some items in previous years. First up of course were Bluff Oysters, arguably the best darn oysters in the world, tasting like they had just been hauled out of the ferocious Foveaux Strait that very morning. We had them in the shell & then battered, I only wished I’d brought along a small bottle of balsamic vinegar to slurp them down with. Oysters were followed by scallops, then prawns and then a wee break to refill our wine glasses and contemplate what would be next on the menu.

Whitebait fritters were up next and with a queue a mile long I had plenty of time to watch the fast approaching band of dark foreboding cloud in the distance. The wind was picking up and there was the odd spot of rain. The wind was also playing havoc with the gas BBQs the fritters were being cooked on. I shifted queues in time to get four well cooked fritters full of tasty whitebait, people behind me weren’t so lucky. One of the BBQs died & the queue size doubled.

The girl behind the counter told me the crew had driven over from the West Coast the day before, it had been an epic 17 hour journey. They’d got half way over Arthur’s Pass when they were stopped by a massive slip that had come down, they had to retrace their steps and cross over via Lewis Pass and then drive all the way down to Bluff. Now it looked like they were going to be caught out again by the weather.

I did learn one thing about whitebait fritters while I waited, they go well with mint sauce! I kid you not. Mint sauce! The stall had a bottle of mint sauce with the lemons & salt etc and suggested just a dribble around the edges of the fritter, not too much just a hint to compliment the whitebait. And it tasted great. I must remember that next time I have whitebait.

After the fritters and before the rain became torrential I braved the outside one more time to get some smoked eel & blue cod from another tent on the other side of the venue. I also bought a couple of pottles of Bluff Oysters to take home. And it was just as well I did because that was the last of the food to be had. As I was making a dash across the tarseal to our tent the full force of the storm hit. The whitebait tent was blown to smithereens, metal tables & plastic chairs hurtled past me, the band gear on the stage tumbled over the edge or was blown into the back of the canvas. People were being knocked over, others were clutching children or food & other gear off their stands. The port-a-loos that weren’t tied to the fence danced off down the tarseal. Chaos reigned.

I managed to fight my way through the now solid body of people sheltering from the weather in our marquee & back to our table where I found the others looking very worried & concerned. The huge marquee was straining under the force of the wind, the metal support frame lifting, then banging & crashing down, the noise was deafening as the canvas strained against the gale force wind. After about 20 minutes and just as splits started opening up on the roof and walls of the marquee the call went out to evacuate via the far end of the tent. A wave of people started moving in an orderly fashion towards the opening at the end and into the full force of a ferocious storm.

Organisers & volunteers  were desperately trying to hold down other tents and gear, the fence had been opened up so we could get back to the carpark but it was a tough battle walking against the horizontal head wind. Many people were having to take shelter behind buildings & vehicles as they just couldn’t walk against the wind & stinging rain. David had to hold tight to one of my girlfriends (she is tiny) for fear she would be blown away. The sea spray was being whipped up across Bluff harbour with the fishing fleet jumping & bucking against their ropes. Thank God we had the car otherwise we’d have had to wait for the buses to arrive from town and there would have been a huge queue & no shelter.

And then to cap off the dramatic end to the Bluff Oyster Festival, we were stuck in our car for nearly two hours in a traffic jam on the one and only road out of Bluff. The storm had blown power lines onto a passing vehicle and stopped traffic dead in its tracks in both directions.

Finally we arrived home safe & sound & with a lull in the storm. Then at around 9pm with thunder & lightning crashing & flashing directly above us the heavens opened up & dumped more hail than I’ve seen in my lifetime on top of us. It was amazing, it just kept coming, thick & fast covering everything in sight. I want to say it was snow but it was definitely hail, the solid little balls of ice finding their way down my neck and coating my head while I was out taking photos. In my slippers. You’ve got to seize the opportunity you know, the hail might have stopped while I was looking for my gumboots.

Some of these photos were taken with a longer exposure hence the brightness, I should have got my tripod out and steadied the camera more but I was in a hurry. Mind you it was very eerie outside after the hail stopped, the white was reflected back into the sky and it was very bright outside, like dull daylight instead of the black night it had been earlier.

This one has a low point of view; I'm sheltering under the nose of the van! :)

This post shows you what we woke up to this morning, ice, slush & now mud everywhere. Poor Doug (our camp ground host); his busiest weekend of the year obliterated by the worst weekend of weather he has ever experienced. And still the storm rages outside 24hrs on, we have had horrendous winds, rain & hail on and off all day with snow predicted this evening. Our diesel heaters are working over time & we’re toasty warm tucked up inside our cosy home on wheels. And at least we have power and no need to move for a week or more. Life on the road is certainly bringing with it a wide range of experiences.

Me Thinks We Left Our Run Too Late

Our run to the top of the South Island to escape winter that is!

After evacuating the Bluff Oyster Festival when a severe storm hit the venue (more on that soon in another blog post) the evening brought more excitement when the loudest, heaviest thunderclap I have ever heard rattled “Out There” (I’m sure the van was lifted off the ground & if it didn’t then it definitely lifted David & I off our seats!) And after the thunder & lightning came the hail, buckets & buckets of it.

And this is what we woke up to this morning at City Central Camping Park in downtown Invercargill, a winter wonderland!

 

"Out There" amongst it.....