Possum and Pounamu

Some of you may remember my writing about green-lipped mussels yesterday. I just received this from my sister, Betty Lou Joe Bob.

This is so bizarre. Shortly after reading your shellfish entry, I heard strains of Luther Vandross coming from the upper pond. I went down to investigate and damned if this creature hadn’t washed up on the bank.

Our lodging last night was surreal. Called Global Village, it was decorated with arts and crafts from around the world. Every square inch had a carved wooden mask or African-esque painting or fertility stick. The walls were painted earthy colors and even the window coverings had jungle motifs. I was a little sorry to leave it.

We departed Greymouth before 9:00 a.m., continuing southbound once the ice was cleared off our windshield. I decided to be generous to Syd and let her drive, even though she’d been the primary pilot yesterday. Our first stop was Hokitika Gorge, about an hour-and-a-half side trip. The water there is brilliant teal because of the glacial flour in the water.

We took a little trail down to the swing-bridge, through a delightful podocarp forest. What is a podocarp, you might ask? I’m so ashamed of you. Still, I’ll tell you. Here’s this from the New Zealand Department of Conservation web site:

Podocarp trees boast a lineage that stretches back to the time when New Zealand was part of the super continent of Gondwana. They belong to a coniferous family known as Podocarpaceae of which there are 17 species. The best known are rimu, kahikatea, miro, mataī and tōtara. In its natural state, a podocarp forest can be luxuriant with a dense undergrowth of shrubs, ferns and tree-ferns. The few precious remnants of forest which survive often contain the highest diversity of plants and animals in the region. They are a left-over from an ancient forested time.

In other words, it’s hella old hardwood. And now you know. Honestly, how do you even live with yourself?

We wiggled our way back to the main highway and toward Hokitika, the greenstone (jade, or pounamu in Māori) capital of NZ. Our first stop was Stella’s, for flat whites, oat pancakes and busted Internet. We took a little stroll down to the estuary.

I bought a present for a daughter and then went to a yarn shop filled with 100-year-old knitting- and yarn-related machines. This one is for spinning.

I indulged myself with a giant hank of New Zealand possum-merino yarn, which one can’t get in the U.S. It’s lavender and I’m going to make myself a sweater with it. It was carded, spun and dyed by the batty, lumpy Kiwi woman who runs the shop and who loves visiting Las Vegas.

On the street we passed a little boy who had decided to be a street musician, with his plastic ukulele and a tupperware box to collect his loot. I can’t imagine what possessed him, for music is clearly not in his blood. He is part-Banshee, perhaps. He squawked as he pounded on the out-of-tune instrument, without even attempting a chord. Then he went into a coughing fit. I gave him a dollar. Kids are on school vacation now. It will be best for the ears of the town of Hokitika when he returns to classes.

I went to the library for a little free Internet as Syd took a walk along the shore and collected sand. I tried to find a travel backgammon game to give to my high school friend when I see her later this week, but no success. We walked by an auto repair shop with a fabulous view from the bays.

Our last stop was Traditional Jade, a family run business, where I found the necklace I came here looking for. The jade was discovered just down the road.

I wanted something that symbolizes new beginnings, in hopes that I will get my life back in the coming months. This design has two meanings. The fish hook stands for determination, strength, peace, prosperity and a safe journey, especially over water. The koru (spiral) represents new life or beginning, growth, harmony and peace (again).

Back on the road, we started to see the tops of Mount Cook and Tasman Peak rising in the distance. The west side of this range (the Southern Alps) rises up steeply from near the shore, while the east side is more gentle grades. It’s backwards from the Sierra, where the east side is the precipitous one.

What do you suppose Swedes for Sale means. We saw a sign. Whatever they are, they were only two dollars per.

I learned a little geology today: the difference between fluvial (river) deposits and glacial deposits. Let’s see if I can get this right. If not, Syd will correct me. The rocks in fluvial deposits are sorted fairly uniformly by size, while glacial processes leave a tumble of rocks of all sizes. I even understand why, but I don’t feel like explaining it.

Yesterday I told you that nobody knows how Pancake Rocks were formed. I was wrong. Syd does. It’s quite interesting, but I don’t feel like explaining it.

The clouds were beautiful today: stormy-looking in the distance and patterned overhead, looking like the designs of sand underwater at the mouth of a river into the ocean.

It’s strange to see such rainforesty-looking flora so close to snowy, towering summits, and those summits so close to the sea. It was also strange to see a wrecked car in a field by the highway, its parts strewn about and its roof crushed. I don’t know if it’s just a recent event that hasn’t yet been cleared, or a cautionary tale for drivers about what happens on these narrow, winding roads.

Around 4:30 we rolled into our accommodation at the base of the Franz-Josef Glacier (Waiau) where we’ll be for two nights. I did my laundry! I took a shower! There was heat in the bathroom! This is a real motel, not a budget backpackers’ hostel, and I’m loving the luxury.