Punakaiki

I’m sitting on my balcony, drinking wine and listening to the ocean. Ohhhhh, I feel good. It’s been a long day … a very long day.

I started out in Queenstown with the goal of making it to Fox Glacier or Franz Josef Glacier on New Zealand’s West Coast. As I left Fiordland and entered Westland it started to cloud up and rain. I laughingly wondered to myself when the showers would stop and the rain start. Before long, the (new, silent) wipers were on high. They stayed that way most of the day. 

This isn’t Westland; it’s Wetland. Trapped between the unpredictably wild Tasman Sea and the Southern Alps, the rain doesn’t come down in drops; it comes down in sheets. I saw one car in a ditch and wondered why there weren’t more. As we approached Haast, traffic was at a crawl. And there’s no way to pass because New Zealanders only use their headlamps at night. There was no way to see oncoming traffic.

Fox Glacier was a mass of rain and wind and clouds. I kept driving. People were booking guided hikes at the Franz Josef Glacier Visitors Center. To see what? I got back in my car. I reached Greymouth, my furthest proposed day’s drive. It hadn’t stopped raining. Since I didn’t do my usual look-abouts, there were still four hours of daylight left. I stopped, reviewed my guidebook and drove on.

I passed the Punakaiki Rocks Villas. My guidebook described it as an awards-winning complex with spectacular views of Paparoa National Park. I was going to check them out, but a tour bus had just pulled in. It, along with three other busses, had the parking lot blocked.

I drove onto Westport. What a cute little town. Their entry sign said “For Switzerland, see Queenstown. For New Zealand, see Westport.” But there wasn’t a room to be found - and it was getting dark. One kind proprietor sent me back towards Greymouth. First one tiny, old motel then another – ones with vacancies earlier – were full. One spot on the road had rooms for $20 NZ. I rang the bell then quickly walked away. That’s ten dollars U.S. I didn’t even want to know what the room looked like.

I’d made it back to the Punakaiki, an area famous for pancake rocks and blowholes, and all that seemed available were hostels. I drove first up to one hostel, then another before deciding I’d drive back to Greymouth before I’d take a bunk bed in a shared room.

Finally, the Punakaiki Villas came into view again. They had a nice ocean view room available. I got to my room, opened the slider to the ocean, called the desk and asked if I could stay a second night. But of course Mr. Odom. With a strong U.S. dollar, the room is less than I paid in Wilcox, Arizona back in January. Life is good. Life is very, very good.