Dunedin and below

It’s been a few days, hasn’t it? Well several days ago, this author had a hormonally-induced mood disorder (PMS) so she thought she’d spare you the view from her world on Saturday, January 5th. But I can tell you about it now. Aside from the dark cave I was living in that day, it was a good day. We woke up in Dunedin and were blessed with one of the warmest days this town must have had or will have all summer. We found a heated salt water pool that was a great place for the kids to actually swim in since the ocean is a bit intimidating for real under-water play. It was situated right on, almost in, the ocean. We were intrigued as to how they constructed a pool and building and concrete sun-bathing area out in the ocean, alongside a mountain. It was fun to stand at the edge of the fence and have a close-up view of the surfers who were a hundred yards or more off-shore.

We went from the beach back to our hotel to be picked up by a big touring bus. The bus drove us 45 minutes out to the end of a gorgeous peninsula where we boarded a boat. I’m not a big touring girl. I get restless sitting on busses or walking really slowly with a mass of people being lectured at about facts I am not necessarily seeking. But, oh my, was that peninsula stunning. And riding on the bus was far better than driving myself and missing much of it. The land was undulating with grassy mountains, not just hills, and we were being driven down narrow roads that had been carved into the sides of them, the bus hanging on for dear life around the curves. The sun was shining in my window and onto my lap where Jordan was curled up sleeping. Apparently, she is not big on tours either. Gabe was mesmerized staring out the window and Mark and I were agape. On either side of the mountains we were rolling through, there was water. On one side, the protected harbor and on the other side, the very unprotected ocean. Dotting the green land was—all together now: sheep. (I’ve gotten to the point where I am shocked when I see an expanse of land in this country without sheep on it.) The lovely farm homes which are less plentiful than the sheep but far more unique and fun to look at, have probably been there for generations (I’m sure they told us that on the tour but I probably wasn’t listening.)

Our bus portion of the tour ended and we boarded a boat with about 30 other people bound for the harbor. The goal was to see Albatross—huge, rare birds found only (mostly?) off the coast of New Zealand, and whatever other wildlife might present itself. These birds love this particular peninsula because they don’t flap their wings to fly, they depend on upward sloping winds which apparently this peninsula has a lot of. Their wing span can be 3 meters long (9 feet) so they sort of look like pterodactyls. We got to see one of them up close. It was sitting out in the middle of the ocean and we steered the boat toward it to make it fly. We got pretty close before it took to the air and I got to see its face. It looked like someone had put a gray mask on an otherwise white bird. Because it was impressed upon us that Albatross birds are rare and their flying habits unique, everyone on the boat began to get caught up in the investment of seeing them in flight. We began to point together and eventually ooo and ahhh together. You know those moments of odd human behavior that only happen when we’re in groups? By the end of the Albatross show, we were bonded.

We also got to see itty-bitty baby fur seals, literally, only a few weeks old. The boat driver got the boat up close enough to the rocks that these pups were living in that we could actually see their little black eyes in their baseball-sized heads. They were beyond adorable.

Fast forward to after the boat tour was over, we went into town, had a fabulous Thai dinner and made our way back to the hotel for bedtime.

Sunday, January 6th was day two in Dunedin (pronounced du-nee-din. I’ve always wanted to do that!) and we had no plans. We’d been struggling with the kids’ behavior and wanted to do something that would give us all what we needed—lots of space. So we drove up the peninsula and found this amazing beach where we stayed for 5 hours.

It was a terribly windy day in all of Dunedin and going to just any beach would have been miserable. Mark and I are also crowd-averse so we are always looking for ways to get off the beaten path. This beach was a harbor beach so the water was calm, the sand dunes protected us from the wind and there were less than a dozen people there the whole 5 hours. The kids were in heaven. And so were the parents.

The funniest story happened when we went on our beach walk. The kids were behind us playing along the edge of the water. Mark had on his shoes and didn’t want to get them wet so he was avoiding the waves as they lapped in. At one point, a wave snuck up on him and he jumped sideways out of the way of the water and almost fell on top of a seal! He jumped, I don’t know, 12 feet in the air? I don’t know what was more entertaining for that split second—seeing a seal within arm’s reach or watching Mark sail through the sky out of surprise!

The moment I saw her, I observed my brain go through it’s rolodex under the heading, “What to do in the face of wild animals.” I saw bear and mountain lion and rattlesnake but I couldn’t find seal. We called the kids over and directed them to take a wide berth around her and then we were together, the four of us, looking directing and closely at a fur seal. She was not worried. After a few moments, she actually re-settled herself in the sand and got back to the business of napping. She deftly scooped up flippers-full of sand periodically and threw the sand on to her back to deter flies (to no avail.) But otherwise, she just laid there. We walked on, talking excitedly about what had just happened. When we turned around to head back to our beach base camp, she was still there. This time, I felt like we were seeing an old friend so I didn’t hesitate to get a little closer to her. Gabe must have had the same feeling because he got even a little closer than I did. She looked so tame and harmless—with that sweet, innocent little seal face. You know the one. But apparently she was there for the space too. She lifted up the top half of her body, puffed out her chest and opened her mouth really wide, looking right at Gabe and me. No noise, but the body language was unmistakable. Simultaneously to her rearing up, I grabbed Gabe’s shoulder and he and I both ran backwards. But as soon as I felt far enough away, I turned back around. She lowered herself back down and relaxed again, confident, it seemed, that she’d gotten her point across. She was right. Because Mark and Jordan were standing behind Gabe and I, terrified, I assured Mark that she was just warning us that we were too close. There’s no way she’d ever hurt us because she knew that Gabe was my son. She was a mother too, I was sure, and she understood that all those young children need is a good, strong warning now and then. I told Mark that she and I understood each other and that he had nothing to worry about. He didn’t buy it but I know what I know. Poor Jordan repeated for at least a few minutes as we walked away, “She wasn’t actually angry at Gabe, or else she would have attacked him. She was just warning him, right? That’s why she just opened her mouth really big, right? Because she wasn’t really angry at him, she was just trying to tell him that she wanted her space, right? If she was really angry at him, she might have attacked him but she wasn’t, right?” I think she worked it through.

Around dinner time, we went back to town, had dinner at the same Thai restaurant because we had all liked it the night before. (I struggled with having dinner at a restaurant at which we’d already eaten when the city was brimming with restaurants we hadn’t tried yet. But I acquiesced for the good of the team and we had a nice evening.)

Which brings me to this morning--our morning to wake up and get in the car again. We had about a 2-hour drive to get to our next stop in Invercargill but it would take us all day because we would be driving through a part of the country called the Catlins, which promised to be a gorgeous section in which we’d want to make many stops. We picked a few places to stop, beginning with a beach with some sand, lots of rocks and boulders sticking out at the edge of the shore and, lo and behold, another seal!
This one was white and just as committed to sun-bathing as the other. At one point, however, a group of 6-8 tourists (dang tourists) came down from the road, saw the seal, got out all 6-8 of their cameras and started shooting. She immediately got up and made her way to the edge of the water, clearly disturbed and stressed out by their presence. She actually started heaving and then threw up right there into the sea. And then the 6-8 tourists put their cameras away and walked back to their cars and drove off. Yuck. We aren’t very good at respecting others’ space, myself included. It made me feel awful about having disturbed the seal the day before with Gabe. But torn because I get frustrated with not being able to get really close to the animals and natural phenomenon that intrigue me the way they do.

Earlier this morning, I went for a run along the ocean. The ocean is so much easier to hear when I’m alone than when I’m with crowds of people or my children. As I ran parallel it this morning, I sensed how powerful it is, how vast it is and how feeble I would be if the ocean and I were to go neck-and-neck in anything. I can’t relate to that degree of power and I am awed by that. But I get frustrated nonetheless, that I can’t be a part of that ocean or somehow experience what it is like to be the ocean. Just like what I really wanted to do with that seal, the first day we saw one, was to touch her. I wanted to see what it would be like to be her. I don’t know what the motivation was for those other 6-8 tourists but I know that mine is a deep yearning for experience.

But soon it was time to keep moving so we drove a ways to our next stop which were these waterfalls. The falls themselves were magical as all waterfalls tend to be. Again, the power of water is captivating. But what was more notable was that we got out of the car in the pouring rain (first rain since we left the US) and donned our rain coats and rain pants and headed down the track through a rain forest. I think it is the first rain forest I’ve ever been in and I felt like a little kid.
What vegetation they have there! It was as though someone gave the Creator a set of basic rules: make whatever plants you want to as long as there is a root system, a trunk and leaves some shade of brilliant green. Everything else is up to you. And then the Creator went wild. Pea-sized circular leaves, big lily pad leaves, long skinny hairy leaves. Trunks that wrap around other trunks, thick trunks, pole trunks, peeling trunks, gnarled trunks. And even a tree with its root system above ground. It was magnificent.

Onward we went to stop at a few more beaches including maybe my favorite so far, and not just because it was called Porpoise Bay. I loved the way it was situated as a round bay with an uninterrupted beach all the way around except for at its mouth. Mostly I loved that there were rocks at the entrance where the open ocean water flowed into the bay. The water crashed over those rocks as it made its way in. Quite spectacular. And yes, we did see a few dolphins who were swimming a ways out.

From there, we finished our final stretch of driving along the most southern coast of the south island. We arrived at our hotel in time for dinner, some downtime in our room and an early bedtime in preparation for tomorrow’s early start. And with that, I will close my computer so I can close my eyes and I’ll write more again next time.