Dunedin

February 9

This morning we set a new record for late starts. The plan was to get up “whenever”, so when I woke up at 8:40 and everyone was still asleep I just sneaked out to the kitchen to catch up on my blogging. We didn't eat breakfast until about 11:00 and weren't on the road until exactly 12:00. After some debate about whether to take the coastal road (answered in an affirmative), we were on our way. We made a few short stops at scenic areas, but one that I particularly enjoyed was a gorgeous beach with a cute anti-littering sign put up by a local 6^th grade class. What made the beach pretty also made it fun: there was a small island just a few meters out from the edge of the beach (as the tide then stood), and waves would crash into themselves after wrapping around it. Even better, if you timed it right (or were barefoot or didn't care about your shoes), you could run out to this island, climb it, and see the waves from above.

As is typical for me, the first thing I did on top of the island was to see how far out I could go. I was close to the edge when I found that the island was split by a small channel of water which was – almost – uncrossable. I went down into the gap that separated the two sides, waited, jumped, climbed, and found myself on the rock responsible for some of the cooler wave effects I've ever seen. Seaweed was thrown all about, waves climbed, crashing up and over rocks and into each other. I was beaming. One of my favorite bits of wave-rock interaction was a stone ramp that some of the bigger waves would hit, break on, and go flying off the edge at the top.

Before long, we arrived in Dunedin. The first hostel we went to (after climbing the steepest hill I've ever seen, which we couldn't believe wasn't the steepest hill in the world (which is also here)) had only two beds left. We called and found one that could accommodate us, checked in, and then drove off to explore the Otago Peninsula.

I have to confess that the drive on the peninsula lulled me to sleep with effortless ease. Being unconscious through most of the drive, I can only assume it was comparable to the places we stopped. And these were very pretty pastoral views. We have returned to gently rolling hills, most of which were sheep farms here. The ocean and the bodies of water touching it seemed to always be in view, and the sky was, for most of the day, beautifully blue and clear. We followed Portabello road all the way to the end of the peninsula, where we definitely did not want to pay the cost of the albatross tour. We just ate our tuna sandwiches in a public area there, fending off some brave seagulls who seemed to know no fear. As we ate, we were able to make out an albatross flying in the distance. It was a majestic bird and none of us saw it flap its wings the whole time it flew. When we were done eating, we stood at the fence at the edge of the cliff looking down toward the ocean, and overheard a guide pointing out an albatross to his clients. It took off from the water, flying centimeters from the surface, and failed to get enough lift to make it up the cliff. The guide informed us (indirectly) that the bird was unlikely to come back.

We stayed at the fence as they left, looking down at a lot of seagulls, a few seals, and a bird we never identified. Suddenly, there was an albatross that did have enough lift. We witnessed it rising just in front of our section of cliff. It circled and then flew right past us, giving us a far closer view than I ever would have expected. Happy at how much we got to see of the birds without paying a thing, we got back in the car and drove.

About half a dozen sheep ran out over the road. Sheep crossing! Ian pulled out his camera while we waited for them to pass. All but one of the next white heads over the hill stopped in their tracks, while the loner stood in the middle of the road for a few seconds. After it ran on, Ian took a few more pictures of the reluctant ones, waited to see what they would do, and slowly drove on when they stayed put. A random man on the road yelled at us to let us know that “you can't stop for sheep like that, mate! You'll turn a whole herd back down the hill!”

If you are driving in New Zealand and sheep run in front of your car, stop for a short a time as possible.

I woke up at another outlook. A sign nearby said that we could see the Chasm and Lover's Leap here. A sorely mistaken woman told us that the trail was only about 20 minutes. We set off. After walking through a very strange tunnel of trees (they had leaves only at the very top, and they were quite tall), we entered into a field and past a very old farm building. Walking a little further, we reached a huge field of sheep. The path to the Chasm actually took us into the field for a while, and then over a barbed wire fence.

I really should have been suspicious here.

The Chasm was pretty, and we stayed there for a few minutes before heading back into the field and up to the Lover's Leap. This path was entirely inside a sheep field, leading as close to the sheep as they were willing to let us get. This view was even better, and actually seemed even more like a chasm than the other one, in addition to being a leap. To top it off, there was a nice view of a lot of sheep dotting the hill below.

Then we tried to walk back.

Zach swore that the path was supposed to be a loop, though it didn't look like one to me. There was a tiny little rut of a path that kept going passed Lover's Leap, but I wasn't keen on following it. We did anyway and, sure enough, we found markings that indicated this was the more of the path, and it seemed to be looping back to finish a circle. But the path remained a rut. We were led over even more barbed wire, and the other side was not civilized. The width of trail we had to walk on steadily shrunk as it got increasingly overgrown. We eventually reached a part where it looked as if no one had used the trail since the person who first set it. Used to ticks and chiggers, I am horrified at the extent of the high grass and shrubbery I am going to have to walk through. Fortunately, this vegetation seems to be free from any such pests, and we make it out alive and mostly uninjured. Zach has a small rash on his hand from a leaf he brushed on the path, but it's going away and everyone else seems to be fine. Over an hour after we left the car, we get back in.

Back in Dunedin, we wander aimlessly through the streets, spending so much time trying to decide where to eat that restaurants start closing, and we end up at an Asian place. I order duck with rice, which is by far the slowest of our meals but very tasty. We make it outside just in time for it to start raining and rush to get everything we need in the hostel. I'm behind on my writing and so, after a shower, stay up past 2:00 am catching up on the blog.

Tomorrow we're... well, we're going somewhere. We seem to be a day ahead of ourselves and can't quite figure out what to do with the extra time. Stay posted.