Skip to main content

Hampden: Day 25

We set off in the rain just before 8:30. Threading our way through Palmerston we found the road to Trotters Gorge and followed it for the next 13 or 14 km. It wound its way up through hills covered in exotic forest, reaching a 240m summit in the steepest climb we have encountered to date. It was one of those annoying roads which promises the end of the uphill just a few metres ahead, until a corner is turned or a crest reached and another climb is revealed with another promised ending. We stopped for a break at what we fondly imagined to be the top just before 12 before climbing a another 50 metres or so and descending into Trotters Gorge.

The gorge has high limestone cliffs rising tortuously on each side of a narrow river. Occasional house sized boulders lying on the bank show that the combined effects of rainwater on the hills above us. Wilding pines grow everywhere giving it a very un-New Zealand appearance but it is nevertheless beautiful. Walking is definitely the right way to see it as there are tiny details of vegetation and rock formations that would be missed when viewed at speed and through glass.

By 12:30 we had emerged onto SHW1 and walked along to the start of the Millennium track at the beginning of the Moeraki peninsula. Here we were joined by Jan and Jane from the Hampden church and we turned left along the beach and walked the final 4 km into Hampden past the famous Moeraki Boulders. Some of us hadn't seen them before, and for me who had, it was interesting to see the other collections of rocks lying along the beach. North of the main group, the ones in the photo above, is a f Moeraki Boulder graveyard, where hundred of them have disintegrated, leaving old fractured cores and pieces of their outer layers lying everywhere. South of the main group are a collection of them made of softer material; these have eroded into large open circles, sitting on the beach like giant broken eggshells.

At Hampden we were greeted by a very welcome sight. At a picture table on the beach were 4 huge paper bags of fish 'n' chips, supplied by Lockies' Takeaways. he proprietor had heard of the Hikoi and wanted to help. He certainly did. Lots of people sell fish 'n' chips but not many people sell good ones. These, quite seriously, were amongst the best I've ever tasted: perfectly cooked blue cod with just a hint of crisp golden batter; great thick chips hard and crusty on the outside and soft crumbly white in the middle; none of it with any excess grease. The trip advisor review has 24 customer reviewers each giving the shop a five star rating, and it's pretty easy to see why.

So tonight we sleep in this quiet little town and tomorrow will walk to Maheno. We have, with local advice, changed our route away from the main road and along the coast road, adding another hour and considerably more scenery to the journey, and significantly reducing our chances of encountering semi trailers. 

Labels:

Comments

NIE said…
Was with you in spirit today - Trotter's Gorge, Moeraki, along the beach to Hampden - scenes of many family picnics for me.
Phew! I'm glad you are following the Coast Road to Maheno. So you'll by-pass Herbert where in the 1950s going to church from a relative's farm near Waianakarua involved a ride in Uncle Fred's horse and cart - think SH1 was still largely unsealed!!
Blessings as you go into tomorrow, Kelvin.
8 April 2014 at 21:49
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Living the lies

In 1969, when I was 16 I left school and got a job as a labourer. My wages weren't high but to me they were a fortune and within a few months  I bought my first car, a 1938 Morris 8 sports, this one here. It had a minuscule 4 cylinder engine and a wood framed body which meant it was slow and it flexed so much when going around corners that the doors would sometimes fly open. Nevertheless I thought it was pretty damned cool, especially with the modifications I made to the muffler for performance and advertising purposes, ie, removing it.  Back then, the most popular TV program was The Avengers, in which the suave and resourceful hero, John Steed drove a 1928 3 Litre Bentley. Which looked kinda like my car, right? Yeah, right. Anyway, John Steed usually entered his car by leaping nimbly over the door, so I emulated him whenever possible. Now all this is preamble. I want to tell you about something that happened to me one day in Papanui Road, Christchurch. My car ...
1 comment
Read more

How To Walk 800 km

John is just walking the 80 metres back to his bike here, but you get the general drift.  The question I get asked more than any other at the end of the Hikoi is "how are your feet?" It's nice that people care, but my feet have never been an issue on long walks. Good shoes and socks prevent blisters and cushion the effects of long distances on hard surfaces, but I have had other issues. When walking the Camino Santiago knees, Achilles tendons and shin splints have all at one time or another given me trouble. This time round, these have all been fine and I finished feeling as though I could just keep on going indefinitely; to Cape Reinga if needs be. Over the last couple of years I have learned 6 things that have made all the difference. Namely: 1. Footwear. On the Camino I wore walking shoes - Salomon in 2009 and Asics in 2012. A year ago I changed to full walking boots - Salomon Cosmic 2 - and the difference was instant and major. When walking more than 15 minutes...
1 comment
Read more

Why I Hold the Views I Do

St. Hilda's Collegiate School, taken with my phone after a recent meeting. This picture has nothing whatsoever to do with what follows, but I like the interplay of shapes and particularly the shadow on the wall. My mother is a Methodist, liberal in her theological and social opinions. My father was a socialist, just slightly to the left, in his politics, of Karl Marx. My siblings -there are 5 of us- are all bright, eloquent and omnivorous in their consumption of books and other intellectual fodder.  One of my most cherished childhood memories is of mealtimes in our little state house. The food was ingested with copious amounts of spirited, opinionated, clever and sometimes informed debate on whatever subject happened to catch the attention of one of the family that day. Or whatever one of us thought might get a rise out of someone else. So, sex, politics and religion it was then - oh and motorbikes, economics, international relations, demographics, cricket, company ownersh...
47 comments
Read more

I See Satan Fall Like Lightning

It happens sometimes. I have a question or am pondering some conundrum or other and the right book arrives at pretty much the right time. In a session with my supervisor a few months back Paul mentioned an article by Rene Girard, whom I had never heard of. I read the article and over the past month have read two of his books, The Scapegoat and this one. I have another couple sitting on my shelf and they have elbowed all others in my to be read pile out of the way and sit firmly on the top. Girard has pulled a number of threads together for me: he has enabled me to rethink the atonement in a way which is consistent with an evolving Universe: he presents a view of scripture which is again consistent with what I know of science but is also faithful to the Bible as the Word of God; he has given me, for the first time in my life a theology (if that is the right word) of Satan which makes sense to me. Most importantly for me, he is consistent with my own lived experience of God's s...
2 comments
Read more

En Hakkore

In the hills up behind Ranfurly there used to be a town, Hamilton, which at one stage was home to 5,000 people. All that remains of it now is a graveyard, fenced off and baking in the lonely brown hills. Near it, in the 1930s a large Sanitorium was built for the treatment of tuberculosis and other respiratory ailments. It was a substantial complex of buildings with wards, a nurses hostel, impressive houses for the manager and superintendent and all the utility buildings needed for such a large operation. The treatment offered consisted of isolation, views and weather. Patients were exposed to the air, the tons of it which whistled past, often at great speed, the warmth of the sun and the cold. They were housed in small cubicles opening onto huge glassed verandas where they cooked in the summer and froze in the winter and often, what with the wholesome food and the exercise, got better. When advances in antibiotics rendered the Sanitorium obsolete it was turned into a Borstal and...
3 comments
Read more