March 14

On Saturday we leave Dunedin, headed for Invercargill. We plan a leisurely pace via the scenic route to the coastal Catlin region in the southernmost portion of the island. We frequently drive on gravel roads and see only a few other travelers as we make our way out to Nugget Point and its lighthouse. Seabirds and sea lions are visible from the trail perched high over the surf and far down steep cliffs. Panoramic views of the rugged Catlin coastline are visible from the promontory. We drive further on down the scenic byway and then trek a short way through tropical flora to the Purakaunui falls. Beautiful cascading waters, bird sounds and sunlight suffusing through prehistoric appearing fern trees make this area unforgettable. At another stop at another waterfall, we meet up again with some students from Israel, Holland and Australia. We share tales of our travels and homeland and we bestow them with our handmade peace symbols before parting. The scenic highway follows the coast line and we travel through some dense forests, then emerge into open areas with sweeping vistas of coastline and emerald green pastures. As in all over previous travels, sheep dot the hillsides, contentedly eating luscious grass.

Invercargill is the southernmost city in the world and features a large green zone and parkland. Dianne is enchanted by the classic rose gardens, Ed is entertained by the contented happy ducks with quackatude. We find our lodging for the night, a backpacker called “Southern Comfort”, a gingerbready old home near the park. We settle in, getting our luggage condensed for the next day’s flight to Stewart Island, where we’ll be without a car for two days. The backpacker is crowded with college age students, all polite and friendly. As we sit down to dinner, Phil realizes he has locked himself out of the room. The caretaker has left for the night, so Phil leaves repeated and increasingly desperate massages on the manager’s answering machine as the hour grows later. With all their stuff locked in the room and inaccessible, Phil and Dianne bed down in the common room as best they can. Every hour Phil leaves another message for Willie, the manager, who we suspect is out to the pub for the evening. About 3AM he finally answers the phone, mumbles his apologies, then appears soon after to let us into our room. We are grateful for that, but soon wonder if these beds are even less comfortable than the couches we had been laying on. No matter, in just a few hours, we’ll be up, getting ready for the short drive to the airport and our connection to Stewart Island.