15th October – Papatowai to Curio Bay

I’d read about a place called the Lost Gypsy Gallery, a collection of hand-made automata created from found objects and on display in an old bus, and was really looking forward to having a look round and a chat with the guy who made it. It was just around the corner from the campsite and was immediately enticing with a corrugated iron hand-wound whale and a bunch of crazy wind-vanes. The sad part was that it was closed until 20^th October and so we didn't get to go and explore. I especially wanted to go through the arch labeled, ‘Winding Thoughts Theatre of Sorts’ and would have telephoned the guy to beg but we didn’t have a signal on our phone.

We followed the signs for tourist information so we could ask them to call him but it led to a bay with a sign rather than a centre so we just went for a wander down the beach instead. The tide was out past the bay but the waves beyond were ferocious. There was also an almost completely decomposed sheep by the edge of the grassland there too so I’m not feeling too warmly about New Zealand farmers  -  or whoever is responsible for cleaning the beaches for that matter.

It was a really changeable day, with bursts of bright sunshine competing with torrents of rain and so we spent most of the day waiting for the gusty wind to blow the rain away before rushing out to have a quick wander or explore during the reprieve.

We’d noticed Niagara Falls on the map and followed a sign for brief detour to find it. We bobbed over some lovely hummocks and gullies and saw lots more sheep but we couldn’t spot the falls.

The day was somehow flying by and we didn't want to end up in Invercargill during the evening and so we decided to head to a nearby town that had a largish name on the map, Waikawa, for a look around. It turned out that Waikawa was even smaller than Owaka and seemed to just be a few buildings scattered by the side of the road. It did have real tourist info though, staffed by a couple of lovely old ladies in woolly hats who explained the Niagara Falls was named by a surveyor with a sense of humour. There was also a museum but we couldn’t look around it because there was a power cut and it was too dark. We could still see the restored buildings outside though and we couldn't help but chuckle because the town ‘jail’ was just a garden shed with barred windows.

Next stop was Curio Bay, where there was a petrified forest and also possibly our last chance to get a better look at the rare yellow-eyed penguin. We underestimated the length of the day and arrived early and so stood waiting on the viewing platform in the cold, rain and wind for well over an hour, shivering and watching the huge waves crashing against the cliffs. We could see the petrified forest just under the water and a rainbow that seemed to be continuously drawing itself, rubbing itself out and starting again.

It was just getting to the time when we were really expecting the penguins to appear when a group of 6 French people turned up and started to walk down onto the beach, something that we’d been warned against at every other site. I asked them very nicely not to and explained that we had been waiting there for a long time. They carried on regardless and one of them turned to say that they’d been there yesterday and the penguins had still come onto the beach.

I was furious. But other than chase them down the beach shouting about how the penguins were nesting and might come on anyway but it didn't mean that they weren't scared and just trying to find a way to feed their babies. I was even more livid when they then started poking away around the nesting sites right at the other end of the beach. By the time they came back I was so incensed that I would have just exploded if I opened my mouth, especially when the one friend who had not gone had clearly told them about my raving about it and they all gave me smug smiles.

Of course, with them already on the beach, I was totally unable to do anything about the brightly dressed and careless-footed troop of people who then turned up and started to stream down there. I could not stand to watch them tramping all over the area that should be protected and preserved and so went back to the car.

We were just pulling away when a German guy who’d waited on the platform with us came running and told us that the first penguin had eventually braved coming out of the water. We ran back for a look and saw one climb to its nest undisturbed but then everyone flocked to that spot with their cameras. The next poor penguin got halfway home and then had no idea what to do when it couldn’t get any further because here were people squatting in its way,  pointing their long-zoom lenses at the poor thing. I stalked back to the car in a big, sulky disgust.

We stayed nearby at a cool little campsite that was right on the cliffs by the sea and had bays marked by long grasses to buffer some of the fierce winds. It had a little round kitchen and a little round shower block but both were busy so we just sat in the car while I sewed the other curtain and Matt used his pen-knife to individually whittle down a bunch of curtain-sliders to fit the back curtain rail. We felt rather traditional.