Christ Church to Akaroa
On Sunday, we finally landed in Christ Church and shuttled over to install ourselves in our new tiny home, a bright orange, Spaceship camper van. The folks there showed us all the features and where to stash stuff and how to put up the tent, installed the DVD player and gave us some tips. We scrounged some leftover food and a couple of yoga mats from the free box (where previous Spaceship renters leave any extra gear or food) filled the water jug, plugged our GPS unit in, and headed out of town. We stopped at a gas station ( well, two because the first would not take our credit card) and then a grocery store for some basic foods (coffee, wine…) We needed to get used to driving on the left side of the road and negotiating all the round a bouts, which is easier to do on country roads. Luckily, it does not take long to get into country from town.
Within just a few miles we were rolling past velvety green, grassy hills, mostly covered in sheep, headed south east to the Banks Peninsula. Sheep would become quite the norm as days went by. I have never seen so many sheep, not even in Great Britain. Many of the lambs still had tails and looked about ready for market.
Naked outcroppings of volcanic rock and compressed ash layers jutted out here and there, along with greyed out stumps of long gone forests. The lack of trees on the steep hills was bothering me after awhile. In West Virginia, we would be worried about erosion with such naked hills.
There was a nice local art gallery on the way, and a “Silo Stay” accommodation next door that was intriguing, so we stopped there for a bit to browse. A metal sculpture garden led outback from a little shop where you could get a light meal. The Silos had been made into little cabins, with running water and everything.
We caught occasional glimpses of seaside cliffs and blue ocean down below and there were giant tree hedges outlining the fields everywhere. I have never seen such tall hedges and can only imagine the job it must be to trim them so neatly. That is two jobs I have never considered- giant tree hedge trimmer, tail docker…
We detoured down a narrow windy road, through the tiny village of Okains Bay, to stop at a Maori Museum. The docent was a Maori woman and the Museum ( in a converted cheese factory) housed a fascinating collection of Maori tools, boats, fishing baskets, sculptures, jewelry, artifacts and local history, and was well worth the stop. We were the only ones there and she told us to not worry about closing time- we could stay as long as we liked. Since there were about eight small buildings and a boathouse there was a lot to see.
We learned that the Maori arrived in the banks area in the 1300’s and the European settlers not until 1850. The first Maori tribes were quite fierce, and they fought and killed each other, and some settlers as well, before finally settling down. They have since managed to assimilate quite well, while retaining their native language and some parts of their culture . The Maori did manage to kill off quite a few of the native birds, such as the 12 foot tall Moa, and the colonial settlers were responsible for bringing in all kinds of invasive plants and animals, which has destroyed many of the native populations. The only native mammals New Zealand originally had were three species of bats and several marine mammals, such as seals, sea lion, whales and dolphins. The country is currently attempting to protect what they have left with marine reserves and eradication efforts aimed at predators but it seems to be a losing battle.
Just down the road, at Okains Bay Beach Preserve, there were a couple of ancient shelter caves we stopped at next. There was a campground there too, but it did not seem to be open for the season yet, so we moved on. 
We were getting seriously tired, so we drove the rest of the way down the peninsula to the Akaroa Holiday Park and got set up on the hill overlooking the harbour. We were finally on vacation.
There were only a few other campers and we had a great view of the harbour and village down below.
We were sitting on what was once an ancient volcano that had blown out, forming the protected Akaroa Harbour at its’ center. Akaroa village is the oldest European settlement on the Island and retains some of it’s French influence and language. After enjoying the view and checking out the nice, clean camp kitchen and showers, we took a nice evening stroll down a little path through the woods and into the village, for a celebratory dinner of fresh fish at Ma Maison, watching the sunset over the water.
Akaroa, Riccarton, Castle Hill, Arthurs Pass-DAY 2
In the morning, we woke from a great sleep to a pair of friendly ducks and our first of many camp breakfasts of yogurt, fruit, and cereal. I snagged some instant hot water from the camp kitchen dispenser for my new morning staple of instant coffee mixed with hot chocolate. I am a lazy cook when I camp and did not have a coffee pot. I was impressed by the other folks who were being much more energetic and actually cooking, but I just wanted my coffee. The showers were our first lesson in the need for better planning. It helps if you have your soaps, towels and clothes ready in one kit each, with the next days clothes pulled the night before, and it is hard to share shampoo when you are in gender specific bathing areas. It was so nice to to be able to get a hot shower though, and remove the travel grime.
Jeff decided that he wanted to start heading towards Arthur’s Pass today, way up in the mountains west of Christ Church, so we folded away our little tailgate tent and started driving back out the Peninsula.
Our next stop, other than overlooks along the way, was at the Riccarton Bush native forest park in Christ Church, with 600 year old kahikatea trees and an impressive fence around it to exclude predators. This was an introduction to many of the native tree and fern species on the island, including giant tree ferns, my favorite.
Driving up the “Great Alpine Highway” towards Arthur’s Pass, our next stop was at Castle Hill, a hike through an odd outcropping of glacial worn, limestone boulders perched on a hill in a sheep meadow. Very cool. Parts of “Narnia” were filmed here. We had fun climbing all over the boulders, gazing out at the snow capped mountains in the distance.
Cave Stream Scenic Reserve was right up the road and we stopped there and considered going caving. However, it involved entering the cave through cold water, at least waist deep, and by the time we emerged at the other end I would have been hypothermic and totally miserable. So we hiked over land to the entrance and the exit points and checked it out only superficially. It was a little disapointing but still worthwhile. Plus, there really weren’t enough hours in the day.
We continued on, getting closer and closer to the “Southern Alps” , which rise 920 meters above sea level at Arthur’s Pass. They really do look a lot like the Alps in Switzerland, with sharply defined rock faces, evergreens on the lower slopes and snow on the tops. The road started hugging the edge of extremely wide, braided gravel river bottoms, with blue-cold glacial melt water rushing by.
There were numerous trail heads marking many different treks going off into the mountains, for which you needed some pretty serious equipment, such as climbing ropes and winter-ready gear. You could spend months just hiking the trails on the South Island. We were not prepared for a seriously technical trek and had just enough daylight left to hike to the Devils Punch Bowl and then Bridal Veil Falls before we needed to find a spot to camp for the night.
We camped right beside the river in a rough camp with nothing but an outhouse , too tired to bother getting out the stove and cooking. We ate some cheese and crackers and went to bed with the sound of the river running over rocks just a few feet away.
A Kea bird, sort of a parrot, known for their inquisitiveness and their ability to remove valve stems and windshield wipers, landed on the roof and Jeff chased him away.
We sure did not need him punching holes in our tent.
The sun set on a good day and the river sang us to sleep.
Wendy lee, writing at edgewisewoods.com