Down Under- part IX

                                   Sunday, April 6, 2014- Akaroa, New Zealand

        At night, the great ship sailed SW around the Banks Peninsula and through the Timotumu Head and the Akaroa Head, anchoring in the seep water off Cape Three Points. Any shore passengers would be tendered two miles up the fjord into Long harbor, Akora.

      It was French Explorers who had founded this community in the mid 19th century. Many of the shoppes ashore and local place names still bear their names.

      We were up by 5 A.M. prepped for the day and had an early breakfast before assembling the Princess Theater by 7 A.M for our bus tour of the high passes of the Southern Alps of New Zealand.

       A crew member led us down to deck three where we boarded a ships lifeboat for the twenty-minute tender ride up Long Fjord to the quaint harbor area of Akeroa. The mist drifting in from the surrounding hills covered them like celestial garlands drifting down to the deep green jade water in an eerie blanket. I could well have been in Northern Scotland or Central Norway. It was quiet and green and beautiful.

     We boarded our bus here in this quaint village, population 1,000. We made our way around the scenic fjord admiring the serenity of the early hours in such a bucolic setting. The City of Christchurch lies a short 65 miles from here but we would pass on seeing it today. A ruinous quake of 2011 had leveled the downtown area with much loss of life. The City is still rebuilding.

     The bus made its way up a series of winding roads some 1200 feet skyward onto the long and narrow Salisbury Plain, which runs for a 100 miles north to south. The elevated plain is lush and green. The pastures are dotted with fat looking Hereford cattle and Merino sheep, all peacefully grazing in the dewy morning mist. The Manakua Oak and honey beech trees lines the roads and served as windbreaks for farmer’s fields. The Manakua honey produced hereabouts is a much-prized export.

      As we crossed several small rivers and streams you can observe the stone-lined riverbeds. These waterways serve as drainage chutes for the glacial erosion of the mountains. We had observed much the same process on the Alaskan mainland.

       Mid-morning found us at a charming sheep and cattle station named Roallen Farms. Amidst the splendor of towering oak trees and a rustic farmhouse, we were served tea and biscuits by the owners in a pleasant English Tradition.

      After the break, we began climbing towards  Arthur's Pass, the main divide across the Alps to the western shore of New Zealand. The gorse-covered hillsides here are studded with granite rock formations that play with the imagination. No wonder Peter Jackson filmed here.Sedona and Monument Valley, in the American Southwest, have much the same effect. We stopped for a time, just across the one-lane Beasley’s Bridge that spans the Wiimekariri (very cold flowing river in Maori) River, for a photo op.

     A short distance further along, we boarded the quaint local train for the two-hour ride back down the plain to Rolliston. On the train, we were seated with Terry & Nell, two friendly Aussies from Melbourne. We had a decent lunch aboard train as we charted with them and watched the scenic hills and valleys roll by us in a green blur studded with sheep and cattle. From Rolliston, high on the Salisbury Plain, we re-boarded our bus for the scenic and eye catching descent to the sea some 1,000 feet below us. It had been a ten-hour swing through the hills for us and we were tiring as we made our way back to the ship. Unfortunately, four busloads of hungry tourists arrived at the tender point wanting to be ferried back to the Dawn Princess. We waited patiently in line chatting with others and enjoying the pleasant visage of the deep green of the water and surrounding hills.

        The tender ride back to the ship was equally as scenic. We soon found ourselves aboard ship and nursing a glass of wine on our balcony as the Dawn Princess slipped her ways and motored down the Long Harbor Fjord to the ocean.

          Dinner in the Venetian room was a treat. Snails in garlic sauce, corn chowder, calamari steak with ice cream for dessert, washed down by decent coffee and cabernet wine made for a memorable repast. Maybe we should get all of our cruise ship pants made with an elastic waistline?

         We were tired from the long day, so headed back to our deck nine aerie where I wrote up my notes for the day. We read for a time and surrendered ourselves gratefully into the arms of Morpheus.