Mouse in our House (the Catlins)

We had to beat quite a bit of inertia to make it out of the Wanaka area, but we had fun doing it! After surviving our first NZ “Bush Party” where everyone dresses up in Swandriis (Swan-dry) and gum boots (rain boots), we managed a final day in Wanaka doing laundry, shopping, and meeting up with a few friends.

Thanks to our typical sluggish pace, we didn’t actually get on the road until late the following afternoon.

The fall colors sprinkled among the oft desolate, barren farmland were our vista for several hours. Frequent and massive boulder fields with fascinating, sculpted occupants were an occasional treat. Before sundown (coming ever earlier these days), we finally made it to a forest and found a little two-track where we parked, made dinner, and went to sleep. For a few hours. Until about 11:30.

A few weeks ago, at the Raspberry Creek car park (jumping off point for the Rob Roy glacier and Mt. Aspiring Hut), we seem to have acquired a pet. It’s not altogether uncommon to return from a hike and find car-food gnawed by a field mouse. It is uncommon, however, for the mouse to take up residence. From a recent mouse-in-tent experience, my confidence and bravery in the mouse-catching department were running high. And so a hilarious night ensued – waking to mouse noises, whisper-shouting at each other as the mouse scurried about our “house,” and ultimately failing each time to catch the mouse. The next days brought mouse traps, a full van evacuation of stuff, and many trail hours spent on inventing home devices that would drown or otherwise disarm Mus Musculus. To our relief, upon return from our latest hike in the Catlins, Mr. Mus seems to have followed his eviction orders.

Balclutha was our first morning stop beyond the gates of Wanaka. I skyped with my

CASA kid for an hour at a cafe before we took in this agri-hub for all the local farming communities. Pat got on well with the curator at the local museum, and we beat the street for Pat-sized jeans to replace his current pair that is in tatters (to no avail). 🙁

We got our first taste of the Catlins as soon as we hit the edge of town. Small paddocks, maybe ¼ of a football field, surrounded on four sides by shelter belts made for curious countryside. On a whim, playing to my desire to see a cheese/dairy factory, I turned off down “Factory Rd.” We found abandoned-looking buildings but dug up signs of life in the form of Chris and Andre — business partners who had just moved their production into an old factory shed. They explained the strange paddocks/fields – “You should be here in the winter when the wind is howling and Antarctica is just around the corner!” They said the area was full of small farms who take good care of their animals and warned us about what we’d see (or rather… wouldn’t see) as we

passed commercial farms farther south. We learned from the two probiotic producers that the more lucrative dairy production is quickly replacing sheep farms, that NZ is the greatest exporter of dairy in the world, and that in Southland alone (about the size of your average county — Lane, Multnomah, Humboldt, Campbell) there are over one million head of cattle.

Our days in the seaside Catlins were spent visiting stunning overlooks, historic lighthouses, myriad waterfalls, and various points of interest. We loved Cathedral Caves — accessible only when they aren’t half-full of seawater (low-tide). The high ceilings complemented my first encounter with living kelp. Because we were essentially walking on the sea floor (the area is without water for only a few hours each day), we got to see how kelp attaches to rocks. Cool! And I learned that rotting kelp (washed up inside the caves) smells like balsamic vinegar.

Other highlights were the Catlins River Walk, a sea lioness who came right up to us, a weird sensory experience in a historic tunnel, visiting the Southern-most point of the South Island, and learning about the native plants. The Catlins River Walk was a two-day journey that started tame and then launched deep into forest, to follow the cloudy stream toward its source, passing tiered falls all the way. We found a perfect campsite, had a picnic, and loved the pine forest and cool fungi — purple, red, orange, green, brown, many shapes. As usual, no signs of animal life. One deer print. One bird. One beetle. But a nice hike anyway!

Now we’re regrouping in Invercargill before heading to the Hump Ridge Trail. It’s been nice to relax!

More photos by clicking here.