So, we headed off along the Catlins towards Invercargill...sounds Scottish - yes, that's cos those wee travellers hit these lands and made this area their own. The city feels Scottish (think Glasgow not the Highlands).
It is also where you head out to NZ's third largest island (contrary to the usual naming system, not called "More South Island")- Stewart Island.
With the benefit of about 30 mins planning outside the tourist office, we booked ourselves on a ferry to the island and a 3 day trek...covering 36km of a mere part of the island.
Well. It is GORGEOUS! The island has 400 people on it, in one town. The rest is nature reserve. This is the place to come to see NZ wildlife that hasn't been destroyed by introduced species.
So, we set off on Day 1 to the first hut. Great walk up and down hills, following the coast. Plenty of golden beaches and native forest. Jungle but nice, safe jungle (no nasties).
The hopes of the obssessive Finnish guy we were in the hut with of seeing a kiwi in the wild seemed a bit dashed at this hut by a few things:
1) someone had cats loose up there. Cats eat Kiwi.
2) There were possums. They enjoy the food kiwi eat and are better at it.
3) There were white tailed deer. See above.
Still, that didn't stop the OCD Finn getting up at 1am to go see if a Kiwi had managed to get past all these hurdles...
Day 2 was a killer. Think climbing stairs. Up and down. Board-walk on hills. Stairs for 10km. Great. Luckily, when the fun couple, Karin and Richard, we'd also met at the hut caught up with us, we went for a swim. Ahhh. Bliss.
The Finn was also in this next hut. Getting up at 1am to see...Kiwi...and rustle... and bang doors... he was not a popular man!!
Day 3, back to Oban, the only settlement.
Events of note:
- we met a Mountie!! A real life Canadian mountie. His sharp eyes picked up human blood on the floor of the first hut. We have a mountie... we have a remote hut with a group of strangers... we have blood on the floor... we see a Hollywood horror...
- note the only horror was the Finn snoring
- we met a couple who were trekking...she was 8 months pregnant! We're torn between horror and respect
- Luckily Richard had trained as a nurse, the mountie and Martin would run back for help, Karin had a pan gripper which could double up as forceps, and Kara could boil water... all options were covered
- we ate Karin and Richard's food and borrowed their gaiters... then decided not to do the 7 hour walk in knee deep mud... sorry guys....
- there is one more event of note.
Event of note by Martin Stanford
The trick to spotting Kiwi in the wild is to keep your ears pricked for rustling in the undergrowth. It is then very important to keep looking at the spot where you heard the rustling. Otherwise you may find yourself telling your husband to pay attention while the little feathered bugger runs across the path behind you. This is possibly the funniest thing that has ever happened to me.
Kara's version
Words cannot describe how bitter I feel about hearing the damned, rarely seen in the wild, creature, turning to tell the galumphing wally behind me to be quiet cos there was something in the bushes, only for Martin to see a KIWI, yes, a rare KIWI, run behind me. It's ok, he made me feel better by spending the whole day saying "I'm sorry, I'm only talking to people who have seen a wild kiwi". GRRRRRRRR.
The rest...
After the tramp (NZ for hike), we went back to Oban and chilled out and showered (hooray!). We ate fish and chips instead of super noodles - fish caught that day too. Then yesterday we went to Ulva Island - a bird sanctuary. Little birdies everywhere!! Coming up to you to have a look and even trying to eat Martin's shoe. It was great. No sighting of the bird that shall not be named though.
Now we're back on the mainland and heading to Fiordland, with a young German hitchhiker in tow (he seemed happy to wait while we did our chores). Mums, don't worry, he is a nice young man, with no facial tatoos.
Martin's parents are now in NZ so we'll see them soon too. Hooray!
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