Red Rocks
Note to self: Sunday is the day to do this walk, not Saturday.
About this time last year on a Sunday Sarah and I set out from Island Bay in the direction of the seal colony. The beach is beautifully desolate and windswept and the going quite hard due to the loose rocks you're walking on much of the way, and the stream or two that requires fording, and the exposure to the winds blasting in from the South. Eventually we reached the giant rock formation acting as a natural gateway to where the seals lay camouflaged amongst the rocks as the sun was getting low and the last dregs of light illuminated an otherwise grey seascape. The huge sluggish creatures lay immobile but for the occasional scratch or wave of a flipper. I got too close to one old cantankerous grandaddy and he grunted a telling off and moved just enough to send me skeltering. The smell of the place was ripe and feral, god do they smell. But it was a magical afternoon, and I was looking forward to returning.
Today as Becky, Sarah and I alighted from the Island Bay bus the sky was crispy blue, the air wintery sweet and the wind uncharacteristically benevolent. After walking the rest of the way round Owhiro Bay we came to the start of the walk and there were screeds of SUVs and dirtbikes in the carpark. Walking along I tried not to be bothered by them and instead drink in the deep opulent colours of the ocean contrasting sharply with the pallid shoreline and barren cliffs towering over us on our right. However, the view all along the waters edge, you could see for miles, was being horribly molested by droves of lice-like vehicles crawling along the beach and the screaming of the dirt bikes that roared past with no consideration of cursing pedestrians.
I could potentially understand the bikes, some testosterone driven desire to control an external power between your thighs and find release in the speed and the noise of the engine struggling below you. But why do it here? Why excrete your fumes and noise here? The 4WDs i cannot understand at all. Assumingly the passengers are here to take in the scenery, but they stay inside their cars and view everything from behind glass, unnecessarily removed from their surroundings.
I find even too much conversation inappropriate on outings such as these. I found that frustrating on the Abel Tasman. Boisterous singing and incessant gossiping, so you feel alien and imposing on the natural stillness.
That's my grumble. It was actually really nice, I had just remembered the place a lot more reverentially. And the vehicles aren't permitted there on a Sunday, so I suppose that's the day to worship.
About this time last year on a Sunday Sarah and I set out from Island Bay in the direction of the seal colony. The beach is beautifully desolate and windswept and the going quite hard due to the loose rocks you're walking on much of the way, and the stream or two that requires fording, and the exposure to the winds blasting in from the South. Eventually we reached the giant rock formation acting as a natural gateway to where the seals lay camouflaged amongst the rocks as the sun was getting low and the last dregs of light illuminated an otherwise grey seascape. The huge sluggish creatures lay immobile but for the occasional scratch or wave of a flipper. I got too close to one old cantankerous grandaddy and he grunted a telling off and moved just enough to send me skeltering. The smell of the place was ripe and feral, god do they smell. But it was a magical afternoon, and I was looking forward to returning.
Today as Becky, Sarah and I alighted from the Island Bay bus the sky was crispy blue, the air wintery sweet and the wind uncharacteristically benevolent. After walking the rest of the way round Owhiro Bay we came to the start of the walk and there were screeds of SUVs and dirtbikes in the carpark. Walking along I tried not to be bothered by them and instead drink in the deep opulent colours of the ocean contrasting sharply with the pallid shoreline and barren cliffs towering over us on our right. However, the view all along the waters edge, you could see for miles, was being horribly molested by droves of lice-like vehicles crawling along the beach and the screaming of the dirt bikes that roared past with no consideration of cursing pedestrians.
I could potentially understand the bikes, some testosterone driven desire to control an external power between your thighs and find release in the speed and the noise of the engine struggling below you. But why do it here? Why excrete your fumes and noise here? The 4WDs i cannot understand at all. Assumingly the passengers are here to take in the scenery, but they stay inside their cars and view everything from behind glass, unnecessarily removed from their surroundings.
I find even too much conversation inappropriate on outings such as these. I found that frustrating on the Abel Tasman. Boisterous singing and incessant gossiping, so you feel alien and imposing on the natural stillness.
That's my grumble. It was actually really nice, I had just remembered the place a lot more reverentially. And the vehicles aren't permitted there on a Sunday, so I suppose that's the day to worship.
posted by Pix @ 7:49 pm
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