Tranquil Moana Rua (Lake Pearson)

We woke to our first heavy frost of the winter while staying at Lake Pearson- known in Maori as Moana Rua which loosely translated means 'wide expanse of water, number two'. There are a number of small lakes in the area, I wonder which one was number one.

After turning the throttle up on the diesel heater, I opened the door to check outside. The sun was yet to rise and an icy blast hit me in the face. I could see a thick blanket of mist rolling in to cover the lake. Perfect! I’ve been waiting to take some shots of sunrise and swirling mist.

I quickly threw on ten layers of clothing, fished my gumboots (wellington boots) out of the storage box, found my finger-less gloves and headed to the lake; crunch, crunch; it was icy cold and and crisp underfoot. I felt sorry for the tent dwellers, I hope they have extra warm sleeping bags.

I wasn’t the first to make a morning appearance, a couple from one of the cars is also waiting to see the sun appear above the horizon.

The sun slowly rose casting an eerie glow over the lake, warming rays are blocked by the mist.

Ducks appeared out of the golden gloom, hoping for an early breakfast?

The early-bird couple made an ideal subject as they walk to the point.

And I’m joined on the lake front by three foreign tourists, a camera-phone records the guys doing a haka in front of the rising sun (or should I say trying to do a haka). They chant 'ka mate, ka mate' over and over again- I think it's the only word they know.

Behind me the warm glow of the golden hour turned the autumnal willows an even richer gold.

Few campers are aware of the beautiful and stunning spectacle taking place just outside their vehicles and tents. Only the hardy (or cold), the romantic and those in the know ….

...are watching a magical scene unfold…

As the sun moves higher into the sky, the warmth pushes the mist away. The far side of the lake lies in the shadow of Purple Hill, it’ll be awhile before the mist lifts over there.

We arrive home later in the afternoon and the lake is still a mill pond, I walk to the top to check for grebes. A small farm hut, or perhaps it’s a fishing hut, has the most amazing view down the lake.

The reflections are stunning, there’s not a whisper of a ripple on the water. If it wasn’t for the different shades of blue I could turn Purple Hill upside down…….

and you'd be none the wiser….are those birds flying through?

Just so you don't have to turn your computer screen upside down...

The sun is fast disappearing behind the mountains behind me and I’m losing the lake to shade…

I decide to  give up when the ducks start to follow me along the edge, their ripples disturbing my reflections.

And now I’m at the other end of the day in the golden hour, although this one lasts just a few minutes because even though the daylight will last another hour or so the sun will sink below the ridge behind us.

An hour later the air is still and cold, there’s likely to be another heavy frost in the morning.

I think I’ll stay tucked up in bed for that one, I don’t want to overdose on magic days.

Exploring the High Country Lakes

Along with Lake Pearson, there are a number of other small lakes not too far away from our camp. We were on another mission; to find yet another fairly rare bird which makes it’s home on the high country lakes of the South Island.

The Australasian Crested Grebe/Kamana is a beautiful diving bird which is rarely seen on land except when they clamber onto their floating nests near the shore. Their legs are located right at the back of their body, this allows them to dive but makes it near impossible to walk. The grebe has a slender neck, a long sharp black bill and very distinctive head gear- a black double crest with bright chestnut & black cheek frills. These it uses in an involved and rather bizarre greeting & mating display. The grebe are also unusual in that they carry their young around on their backs.

Lake Grasmere was just up the road; access was through a farm gate, along a grass track across a paddock to a small DOC reserve on the edge of the lake. 

We saw our first Grebe, a juvenile on the waterfront in Queenstown last year, we now wanted to find an adult bird, to see their unusual plumage and hopefully a little of their courtship display.

Queenstown Juvenile Australasian Crested Grebe

The lake was a mill pond, the mountains behind reflected in the still water.

Any birds we could see were down the far end of the lake milling about. Looking through the binocs and spotting scope they turned out to be Canada Geese, Mallard Ducks and NZ Scaup- probably taking refuge from the duck shooting season on a protected lake.

Grebe tend to hang out by themselves and after a long sweep around the edges and over the lake we finally spotted two grebes swimming and feeding off to the side. There was no way I could pick them up with my camera so we decided to return the next day now that we knew grebes were in residence.

David searching for grebes with the spotting scope

The reserve’s tied-down (it must get windy around here) long-drop with the skull emblem on the door made a great subject with the Craigieburn Range behind.

We went back to the lake the next day but unfortunately the grebes once again stayed out of range. I took a shot just in case this was last we were to see of them- this is zoomed in and cropped to within an inch of its life but at least you can see, it's a grebe.

I was also unable to find any grebes at our end of Lake Pearson but there were smalls flocks of Australian Coot with their oversized feet, and NZ Scaup including this male (bright yellow eye) who I thought was nesting rather late in the season. Most scaup are usually quick to depart if you get near them but this one stuck it out while it’s mate did mad circles just off the edge and the rest of their friends swam away. So it was a surprise to see the next day that there were no eggs in the nest at all (hardly surprising when I thought about it) so I’m not too sure what it was up to- just lazier than the others and couldn’t be bothered moving when I approached.

We stopped in at the tiny Cass settlement not too far from our camp, Cass is little more than a handful of houses and a railway shed. But this is not just any shed, it’s a very important & iconic railway shed in New Zealand’s history (thanks Francis). There is an iconic painting by a famous New Zealand artist, Rita Angus, of this colourful little shed.

Before the line ran through Arthurs Pass to the West Coast, Cass was the railhead. Sadly, despite the paint job, the shed has seen better days; half a dozen swallows vacated the interior as I approached & it looks like dry rot has set in on one side. Unfortunately the sun was in the wrong position, so I couldn’t shoot it from the same POV (point of view) as Rita painted it.

These two quietly watched me as I walked about shooting the shed, I went across to talk to them and give them a pat. The younger horse at the back took exception to my visit and tried to bite me while I was talking to his friend; he got a short shift.

Not too far from Cass we took a side road in search of Lake Sarah, another small perfectly formed lake tucked below a large hill. Again there were a good number of water fowl on the lake and again, mostly over the far side. We settled down to have some lunch looking down over the lake and were rewarded when we spotted three grebes swimming by themselves, front centre of the lake. But once again they were too far out for my lens.

I decided to give my wide angle landscape lens a whirl which allowed me to capture the whole lake in the frame. The following two photos were also taken with the lens. I should use it more often but because we’re always on the move and I never know from one moment to the next what I’ll be shooting I find my zoom lens much more user friendly, if somewhat heavier!

We drove another few kilometres up the road, deciding to turn around once we could see that the scenery was not going to change much and that the road looked to go on forever.

The views were spectacular, big mountains, huge skies & a wide open spaces with the Waimakariri River off in the distance- this is further east from where we’d last seen it.

I took this photo of the sign on the door of a small shed beside the railway and near the lake; it’s was either a fishing hut or belonged to the Canterbury University who had ‘Keep Out’ signs along the road- perhaps they farm the land. Whoever owned the shed, they’d obviously had enough.

Into the High Country

After spending the last two months on the West Coast surrounded by beautiful luxuriant rainforest dripping with emerald green mosses, followed by the last few days in the middle of the Southern Alps with steep mountains and bush clad slopes, it’s a surprise to find, as we head east towards Christchurch, that just 8kms from Arthurs Pass Village the countryside opens up into the wide scenic panoramas and big skies of the Waimakariri River Basin.

And after all the rain we experienced on the West Coast, it’s also a surprise to see how dry it is on this side of the Southern Alps. The Canterbury High Country is still in drought mode, there has been very little rain here for many months.

We stop on the side of the road so I can take a photo of the rig with the mountains behind, I’m sure these will now be covered in snow after the big dump a week or so ago. Ever patient David pulls up again after we cross the river so I can get another shot looking back up the valley past the long Waimakariri River bridge.

The road hugs the bottom of the Black Range mountains which form a backdrop to the huge expanse of the braided Waimakariri River, one of the largest braided river systems in NZ. It’s not long before we pull up again. The view is absolutely stunning, the willows below the lookout are in the the final throes of their autumnal colours, the swampy backwash of the river a vivid blue.

I stitched this pano together which is a little cramped (I should have used my phone, it does panos better than my camera), with the road on either side, but it gives an indication of the width of the river flats; across the river to the left is the Dome (1938m) and to the right The Pyramid (1608m). Click on the photo to see in enlarged.

Just before the road leaves the river near Mt Horrible (with Mt Misery behind- someone was obviously having a bad day when they dreamed up those names) there’s a a short side road to the historic Mt White bridge. The trans-alpine railway meets and runs alongside the river here on it’s way through Arthurs Pass.

The road over the bridge leads on deep into remote conservation land & the isolated Mt White Station.

The cold crystal clear waters of the Waimakariri pass underneath the bridge…

…and head east through numerous gorges before breaking free once again and crossing the Canterbury Plains before exiting into the Pacific Ocean, south of Woodend Beach near Christchurch. A very familiar river for my father’s family. Dad was originally from Woodend and his extended family still whitebait near the river's mouth whenever they are able to.

Leaving the river behind, the road stretches ahead of us, long & straight. I’m falling in love with the high country again!

And just over the brow at the end of the road above, is our next destination, the beautiful & tranquil hour glass shaped, Lake Pearson (or Moana Rua), resting in a hollow at the bottom of Purple Hill (1680m).

There’s a DOC camp here right on the lake’s edge, although with the drought the edge has receded quite a bit.

The camp site is a popular stop over for many people on their way back and forth, from east to west coast, through Arthurs Pass. There are numerous parking spots under the willows or in amongst the wild & spiny matagouri bushes. Most smaller vans & tents set up camp tucked under the trees, this gives them some protection from rain (not likely here), wind, and heavy frosts. The trees also provide a handy place to tie up a temporary clothes line, although I doubt this camper's clothes would have dried in the brisk air of the late afternoon.

We see plenty of Wicked Camper cars on our travels and nearly always shake our head in disgust at what is printed on their doors, we also wonder how some people get on driving them around the country. Imagine the hirer’s shock when they were presented with this van, they obviously couldn’t change the vehicle but came up with a novel way of showing their disapproval (I’ll let your imagination work out what was written underneath) the makeshift sign begins with 'Sexism Sucks....'

The site was also a popular rest stop for travellers passing by, often a car load of tourists would pull up, the doors flung open with people striding off in all directions taking shots of anything that moved; tree branches, autumn leaves, lake, ducks, 5th-wheelers-  click, click, click.

Often, it looked like the battle of the DSLRs. In most cases I don’t think there was anything considered in their shots- point & shoot with multi-thousand dollar cameras. Although I guess these shots were better than the usual ones of cheesy faces and peace signs.