It’s a Small World

Hip hooray, Zach still can’t harvest cause of rain so we’re off to The Banks! We have been hearing “The Banks” a-lot in this house and are eager to see what they have to offer. Incidentally, we are also still a bit knackered from our big day yesterday, but no matter. One is not always in New Zealand, so the show must go on.

The Banks Peninsula is a mountainous area located just SE of Christchurch It’s obviously farm land, with vineyards, olive groves, sheep and cattle covering the hillsides. It’s beautiful enough to be a major tourist destination, but instead looks pretty low key.

We wound our way to the center of the peninsula, the road eventually becoming gravel till finally ending at a little parking spot and the head of Onawe Pa Track. This short and beautiful hike leads out to a hill and overlook in the largest bay of the peninsula. You have to go at low tide, otherwise the track is underwater at the beginning. It crosses a rather rough beach with strange mud cliffs before starting up a grassy meadow and ending on a pile of rocks at the top of the hill. The views from up there are spectacular. Dozens of boats are moored in the bays, small towns sit in the little bays and fields and pastures spread over the hills. We could faintly see the French town of Akaroa, which was our next destination. The path down circled through a woods that was positively loaded with combative cicadas. They dive bombed our heads and clung to us with their claws, or whatever cicadas have on the bottom of their legs.

The Banks Peninsula was purchased in 1838 by a French whaling captain. He bought the land, then sailed back to France to proceed with some sort of agreement with the French King at that time, and planned to establish a French port city on the Banks when he returned. Unbeknownst to him, while he was away, the British took control of New Zealand and when they heard that the French had plans for Akaroa, they rushed over there and raised their British Flag, just days before the captain and 63 settlers arrived from France. The British graciously said they could stay and colonize the area, even if it wasn’t theirs anymore, and thus began the French Akaroa. The town still has French street names, French cafes and the Police Station says Gendarmerie on the front.

Did we eat in a quaint French cafe? Naw. We ate at Bugger Me Burgers. A solid New Zealand eatery run by an older man that was tall and skinny and had a sepulcher face. The face of an undertaker in Dickens era London. His sister, who was the other owner, sadly looked average.The two of them appeared to run the little joint alone. The food was good, service great, and sun warm as we sat on the front porch eating.

From there we popped into a fudge shop and loaded up on delicious fudge! So yum. Eating fudge and feeling content, we wound our way over the mountain and along a scenic drive where we gazed at soft wooly sheep, healthy cows, and down into bays with sparkling blue water. Sometimes we’d stop and get out, just to drink the views in a little better. We stopped for a little exploring at Pigeon Bay, but the tide was out and it didn’t look fierce appealing water wise. There was an old marina with small sailboats and a wooden pier we walked out on. And then it was home. Home to pack up, rest, eat, and maybe hike Sharplin Falls if we could drum up energy.

Resting and supper refreshed us enormously, and we all were ready to tackle one last hike. Kindi was in a silly mood, and I was trying to not think about the fact that we had to leave in the morning. Sharplin Falls is calming, stunning and the perfect evening walk. The stream cascades happily over rocks and the path zigzags up through tall trees and ferns. Bridges span the river here and there and the birds sang in the trees.

Its just so lush here! A person tries desperately to store it all up to last till summer at home, but it’s impossible. Long before May my soul will be dry.

We didn’t have a lot to chatter about, but hiked quietly through the woods, Kindi staying staunchly in the position 2nd from front. She prefers to hike directly behind Heath, but will hang with the rest of us in a pinch. Apparently all her car seat sitting had restored her legs to 100% as she never flagged once on the 3 mile hike. The sun had just set when we got back to the car and the night air was cool. Ah New Zealand, I truly do love you!