By: Blonde Two
On Sunday, my little cousins (who are not so little these days) took me for a walk.
“I know somewhere really peaceful that you will like. said Big-Little-Cousin, and he was right. We had a morning that proved that even the shortest of walks can be a wonderful experience.
Once we had put the Segway away (long story), we walked up the lavender lined drive and past the cottage (cottages here are wooden, have pretty porches and tin roofs). Next we had to climb a gate; not a problem once Big-Little-Cousin had warned me about the electric element of the proceedings.
A short walk across a paddock led us to the skinny bridge. Despite being skinny and a bit twisted, this was a pleasing experience and we continued across another paddock. Once across, we said, “Hello” to the cows; they didn’t seem that eager to see us, once we had demonstrated our lack of hay, so we passed on by.
It had been a very domestic walk so far; and as we approached the river, I was expecting a muddy stream, or maybe a babbling brook. This splendid vista is what presented itself to me (I should have known, New Zealand is not very good at underwhelming!)
We did a bit of paddling at the edge, and then Big-Little-Cousin informed me that the river was running higher than usual, and we needed to cross to get to the best part. I am afraid that I was initially a bit of a Pommie wimp here, and made a girly fuss about the chilly water going over thte top of my gum boots. Little-Little-Cousin is half my size, and she wasn’t one iota fazed by this, nor by the fact that the current was strong enough to take her downstream. With two small cousins already knee deep, I didn’t have much option but to follow and discovered that slipping around in water-filled wellies is actually rather good fun.
We got to the other side safely (with a few wobbles from me) and had a lovely time admiring the snow on the Rimatuka Hills (me), throwing stones (all of us) and considering the possibility of swimming in jeans (Little-Little-Cousin).
And then we went home for morning tea (which is a lot like a coffee break). A thoroughly lovely morning; and Big-Little-Cousin, you were right, it was really peaceful and I did like it, I liked it a lot!
What beautifully clear water! Missing my annual trip to the Lakes this year, and the clarity of the streams tumbling down the mountains into the meadows.
The water is stunningly clear here. Unless it is blue and mysteriously mirky (which is equally attractive).
You know the Dance of The Seven Veils? – the seventh is finally discarded and all is totally revealed. Two Blondes Walking is presently engaged in its own version of the Dance of the Two-Hundred-and-Seventy-Two photo-bits: gather the relevant pix together in Photoshop, turn each one into an identified layer (very advanced this), combine them in a sort of three-dimensional electronic jigsaw, and lo, one has a complete image of Blonde Two, not of course veil-less, dressed decently in something like Gore Tex, playing pan-pipes, ready to do her Pied Piper of Hamelin act when she gets back to Dartmoor.
As to the rugby I’m way ahead of you. More than a decade ago, while passing the night at a farmstay in Te Anau (look it up), I joined the master of the house at 5 am in front of the telly and (I’m sorry to say) watched France beat NZ in the World Cup. He was a strong guy, that farmer, and there were times when I thought he might wrench the arms right off the chair he was sitting in. A long way from home I remained as quiet as a church mouse. You’d have admired my discretion.
Roderick – of course I have no need to look up either ‘farm stay’ or ‘Te Anau’ (although I haven’t made it there yet).
I can feel your farmer’s pain down the years though. It wouldn’t be any less today.