TE NAMU

The Maori name for them is Te Namu. Leo thinks they're worse pests than the Kea, the giant wild parrots that have been known to rip the rubber stripping off camper vans, (watch out Spaceship!) and saw off a side view mirror with their powerful beaks. (The other night two of these birds were playing with our tent, crying "Keeee-a" which means 'come out and play.') In my opinion Te Namu are worse that any mosquitoes in the U.S. because you can't just slap them to kill them before they bite you. You have to pulverize these little devils, the New Zealand sand flies /black flies. Actually, it's only the female of the speicies that bites. She needs blood to produce her eggs, and the four of us have donated plenty to help this species procreate. The bites start itching especially when we're in a warm place, like a sleeping bag.
"At least we don't have to worry about bears here," said Malcolm, remembering their bike ride two summers ago on the Great Divde Trail from Banff, Alberta to Antelope Wells, New Mexico, when we were lucky enough to join them for four days. But this time I don't have to sing "The bear went over the mountain" at the top of my lungs or whistle or use bear bells to scare away a black or brown furry things, because in Kiwi land the most dangerous animals are the Keas and the Te Namu.
I didn't think we'd have a chance to go biking with Malcolm and Helen on this adventure to the South Island of New Zealand, but Helen found a Rails to Trails route beginning in Clyde. It's not far from the McKenzie Region where they would like to live after moving from Perth.
Nivel, the owner of Trail Journeys, not only rented us four mountain bikes and four panniers but suggested we take his bus to Ranfurly and begin a two day, 100 kilometer trip back. He made resrvations for us in Omakau at the Commerical Hotel. Two kilometers into the trip we were all cussing Nivel.
"Maybe he has a thing against Americans."... "I don't think he liked your joking, Malcolm." ..."Maybe he's just sadistic and likes to torture cyclists." We were cycling into a terrific headwind that almost blew Helen off her bike.
"Get in line," yelled Leo above the roar of the wind. Luckily, his ankle didn't bother him to pedal, and he was a great wind screen.
After cycling for thirty kilometers through the wind and two tunnels, the sun came out and the wind dissipated. It was beautiful riding through a gorge alongside herds of sheep. We decided Nivel had a good idea after all. That night we treated ourselves to New Zealand beer and fish and chips in the bar of the hotel. It was filled with lively locals enjoying a pint and each other's company. Kiwis are just plain fun.
"What's that sign mean?" I asked the lady bartender as she poured me my pint of Speights. Above her head was a wooden plaque that said, "I.I.T.Y.W.Y.B. M. A. D., thank you" I knew it wasn't Maori but couldn't decode it. With a straight face she said, "If I tell you will you buy me a drink?" Uh, well, sure I told her. "So what's it mean?"
Then she handed me my beer and said "if I tell you will you buy mea drink." Huh?
"She just told you," Helen said, elbowing me. A few seconds later I got it. Duh.
"Okay, I owe you a drink."
Though she protested at first, she finally accepted my payment. Later as the four of us finished another game of cribbage I saw her sitting with a tall, burly bloke on the customer side of the bar. She was laughing as she ordered her second drink.
To let Leo's sprained ankle continue healing we held off on doing another long hike. Instead we signed up for an overnight boat ride to Doubtful Sound on the West Coast. We lucked out and got the last four-bunk room. After an hour of cruising we got to an arm of the Sound, and Helen and I went kayaking with about 30 other passengers and Kimmie, our guide. As we paddled following Kimmie along the water's edge near the cliffs I saw Helen pointing across the water. Water was spraying. It couldn't be surf, I thought, there weren't an waves. Then Helen, Kimmie and the others began paddling furiously towards the other side. Dolphins? Could it be? Yes, I could see three, no four, masses just beneath the surface, and occasional spouts of water as they came close to the top. Even though I'd been paddling for half an hour, adrenaline surged and my arms rapidly rotated the double paddle to propel my kayak through the water. Glorious! I'd heard of people swimming with dolphins and I knew they liked humans. For a minute I was in the middle of a herd? group? flock? of these magnificient creatures. It was a real privilege to be so close to them.
Later that evening as the boat was idling in the Tasman Sea, while all the passengers were on deck waiting for the sun to set, about ten dophins decided to put on a show for us by performing olympic-level somersaults, back flips and half twists. Then as the boat zoomed back to our overnight anchor spot, the dolphins decided to drag race with us. They are so hydro-dynamic they literally did circles around the boat.
The next morning out on the deck when I saw their sleeping bags, I asked a young couple from the Netherlands if they had spent the night out there. "No, too many black flies," the woman answered as we both stood there swatting and slapping and waving the little beasties away. "But we've been out here since five a.m.'; our bunkmate's a snorer."
Luckily, none of our group snored, or at least I hadn't heard anything that night, although Helen warned me that she might. It's amazing, actually. We two couples have know each other since 1994 but we've only spent about eight days together before this trip. And now we've spent nineteen days together traveling around the South Island in a pretty small minivan. We've gotten fantastically well. Maybe it was all that cribbage playing. More likley it was the Jack Daniels and the Shiraz wine.
We spent our final evening together exploring Christchurch. Leo and I wished our friend, biff, from Shanghai/Prague could be have there to show us around. Thursday morning we exchanged hugs and kisses and said goodbye. We'll miss Helen's planning and Malcolm's joking. We taook the transcenic train from Christchurch to Picton then rode the Interislander ferry to Wellington.
Now we'll be on our own, renting a car, learning to drive on the left side and trying to find our way up north to warmer climate and beaches. Even though we don't speak the language as well as Mal and Helen, we do our best. But we'll miss them. G'day mates. No worries.