Open Writing

The phone rang and a Scottish voice said, “This is Jane.” Jane, my cousin’s daughter, was last seen as a small child when she and her sister shared a bath with my two small off-springs in Lairg. A long time ago, and a lot of water has passed under the bridge since.

We had lost touch and now, visiting the antipodes, this theatre sister who was working her way around the world and doing exciting things like canoeing up the Amazon, sailing to the Galapagos Islands, and visiting Machu Picchu and the Alto Plano, felt duty bound to call on her elderly relatives in South Island.

What did she expect of us? Having spent nine months working in North Island, she had set foot on “the Mainland,” another world. But little old ladies and elderly uncles? Did she see me with a shawl around my knees knitting and offering tea and biscuits at three and bed at nine? She has left with a slightly different impression, South Island tends to do that to people.

She arrived earlier than expected, coffee time rather than dinner time. The poor soul had ensconced herself in a nearby motel rather than descend on us a day earlier, but not to worry, her room and bed were ready and all she had to do was settle in. All I had to do was make a quick trip to the shops to pick up some extra supplies. “Won’t be a minute.” Osteoporosis has reduced my size and so a booster seat is necessary for me to drive safely. I keep it in the back seat and fix it in the front seat when needed. I backed out of the garage. “Oops.” “More haste less speed.” I had forgotten to close the rear door. Our local panel beater straightened it out and got it in working order until the new door arrived and I won’t repeat what my husband said, but my ‘niece’ must have wondered about her “mad aunt” and the lack of knitting needles.

Things settled down and over the next four weeks we got to know each other. “I knew you were my sort of people when I saw that piece of wood hanging from your wall,” she said. The wood was bog oak from Lairg and when we found it by the side of the dam we knew it had potential as a piece of sculpture.

Our ‘niece’ loved wild life and beaches and the sort of things we love so we decided what to do with her. First we headed for the Albatross colony at Taiaroa Head at the end of Otago harbour, the only place in the world where Royal Albatross breed on mainland. It is at the end of a long road built by convicts during the Maori wars, a road which clings to the side of the harbour and winds its way around the little bays, past yacht clubs, craft shops, small communities, cafes etc. Wading birds are seen in their hundreds at low tide and cormorants stand on posts, wings outstretched to dry, while fur seals lie on rocks and look at you with big tear-filled eyes. The container terminal looms across the water at Port Chalmers, but this side of the harbour is not for industry.

At the end of the road is the Royal Albatross Centre, opened by Princess Anne and visited by Prince Charles not long ago. The colony is closely guarded and can only be approached with a guide, who leads you to a hide from which you can view the nests. We headed, not for the centre, but for the cliffs and gazed down on other nesting birds and their chicks and looked up into the sky. We couldn’t have picked a better day. The albatrosses were in full flight, circling around the Head and at one point seemed to be heading straight for us, my husband got what he calls “a shot of a lifetime,” which some of you may have seen. What big birds they are and so graceful.

Jane leapt about in glee and gazed down at nesting birds and greedy chicks, almost within reaching distance, had it not been for the steep cliffs. “Was it always like this?” We didn’t like to say “no.” It was a perfect day, blue sky and enough wind for these beautiful birds to fly.

Finally we left the cliffs and dropped down to a little bay under the Head for a picnic. Fur seals ignored us and Jane found a penguin’s nest complete with chick, the 46 year old was like the 8 year old from years ago. Yes our day on the peninsula was a great success.

What next? How do you compete with albatrosses? We headed for the Catlins a few days later, in fact we headed for the Catlins several times. Beaches were her ‘thing’ so we walked beaches. We scrambled over boulders, looked into rock pools and tickled sea anemones to make them open, we searched for unusual shells and stones which could be polished, we stood on the edge of cliffs and watched waves crash against off-shore islands and in between we bush-walked and gazed at big waterfalls.

Wild life. OK, let’s find some. We waded across a river and the two great rocks at the end of the beach we were on, turned out to be two bull elephant seals. As we drew near they reared up and roared. Jane had found the counter to the albatross. Fortunately they did not go for us they went for each other, so we watched for a while then paddled back.

Just time to head down the inlet to Pounawea and explore the estuary. But what’s that? I had hoped we would spot one. A spoonbill, pure white and twice the size of the grey heron beside it, sifting through the mud flats for his tea. But time is passing and the penguins are due home. Off to Kaka Point and the spot we know they are heading for. These are not the little blue penguins of the peninsula, these are the yellow-eyes. Out they come, little old gentlemen jumping from rock to rock and taking a good look round, just to check things out, before they begin their stately walk up the hill to be greeted by joyful chicks waiting for a feed.

Day’s end and time for tea at “The Point,” fish and chips and a glass of wine or beer, as we gaze at those other creatures, humans, emerging from the sea on their surf boards.

“I want to see Hooker Sea Lions.” Ah! I’ve been there before and that’s another story. Hooker Sea Lions are to be treated with care. But “nothing ventured, nothing gained,” we set off to find them, we know where they are and we were not too keen. These are the ones which attack you, the beach is theirs not yours, and they are big and fast and I am not happy about them. Armed with a flax stick, which is neither use nor ornament, we set off along Cannibal Bay to Surat Bay. Praise be! Only two of them, it isn’t ‘harem’ time. So Jane saw her Sea Lions. She whistled, shouted, jumped about and generally tried to get some action. Fortunately they just raised their heads and roared, it was siesta time and they couldn’t be bothered with humans. But she had seen them and was satisfied and hadn’t realised they were so big.

We did lots more of course. Explored Gabriel’s Gully and the old mine workings, climbed the steepest street in the world and saw the rhododendrons at their best.

She has gone now, back to North Island and then on to Australia. She has done her own mini tour of the rest of South Island in her little hire car and the rest of the world awaits her. I hope she finds what she is looking for, this mature theatre sister with her eight year old eyes. It has been a joy to meet you again, Jane, and may all your dreams come true. But I wonder what you thought of your mad old aunt and uncle?