Te Apua, New Zealand
We’re in Te Apua, New Zealand for a two-night stay. Mark and I take in the local attractions at a leisurely pace the full day we’re there.
Te Apua is home to the visitor’s center for Fjordland National Park, and after breakfast we ride our bikes there to see the introductory film, even though we’ve already visited the park, and we buy a magnet to add to our collection.
We walk to a bird sanctuary where one of two takahe is in the open so we get a good look. The bird is oddly shaped, almost spherical, with peacock-blue feathers underlain with dark purple. The beak is orange as are the legs and big-taloned feet. At the turn of the 20th century, the takahe were thought to have gone extinct. However, in 1950, while hiking deep within Fjordland National Park, a doctor rediscovered one. Today 200 takahe are thought to be roaming the wild. The male we see is about half the size of a large turkey.
And speaking of turkey, New Zealanders don’t eat it nor do the Europeans on the tour. All whom we ask about it respond in kind, similar to how I would respond if a foreign visitor were to exclaim, “You mean you don’t eat squirrel?!” Some may have tasted it, but it’s more of a game bird to them. And though not quite as plentiful as squirrels are in Southwest, Ohio, wild turkeys do roam all over New Zealand, both the north and the south islands—because no one eats them!
We take the afternoon boat across the lake to the Glowworm Caves. A powerful, noisy stream runs through the cave. Mark and I, in a group of 14, cram into a tiny boat and are instructed to stay quiet so as not to disturb the worms. The boat carries us to the grotto where hundreds of tiny spots of blue glow far above our heads, like constellations.
To me it seems unreal and I wonder if this is like a carnival attraction. Surely, the operator has secured a blue light to the actual cave ceiling and built a drop ceiling into which holes are poked at random to let the light shine through. I think we’ve been had.
However, further into the cave the points of light are on the cave walls, and the boat carries us close enough that I can blow on one. It moves! And from the light of an adjacent worm I can see the original worm squirm around. The hungrier the worms are, the brighter they glow—to attract insects. I blow on (disturb) several more worms before Mark scolds me with a nudge.
We bike back for dinner, and after dinner that night, Mark and I ride into town to the cinema. The posh theatre sells candy but not popcorn, and the movie has an intermission to allow folks to come to the lobby for wine. Fancy.
After biking back for our second night at this camp, we lie side by side in our sleeping bags, glad that we have to set this tent up only once more.
Te Apua is home to the visitor’s center for Fjordland National Park, and after breakfast we ride our bikes there to see the introductory film, even though we’ve already visited the park, and we buy a magnet to add to our collection.
We walk to a bird sanctuary where one of two takahe is in the open so we get a good look. The bird is oddly shaped, almost spherical, with peacock-blue feathers underlain with dark purple. The beak is orange as are the legs and big-taloned feet. At the turn of the 20th century, the takahe were thought to have gone extinct. However, in 1950, while hiking deep within Fjordland National Park, a doctor rediscovered one. Today 200 takahe are thought to be roaming the wild. The male we see is about half the size of a large turkey.
And speaking of turkey, New Zealanders don’t eat it nor do the Europeans on the tour. All whom we ask about it respond in kind, similar to how I would respond if a foreign visitor were to exclaim, “You mean you don’t eat squirrel?!” Some may have tasted it, but it’s more of a game bird to them. And though not quite as plentiful as squirrels are in Southwest, Ohio, wild turkeys do roam all over New Zealand, both the north and the south islands—because no one eats them!
We take the afternoon boat across the lake to the Glowworm Caves. A powerful, noisy stream runs through the cave. Mark and I, in a group of 14, cram into a tiny boat and are instructed to stay quiet so as not to disturb the worms. The boat carries us to the grotto where hundreds of tiny spots of blue glow far above our heads, like constellations.
To me it seems unreal and I wonder if this is like a carnival attraction. Surely, the operator has secured a blue light to the actual cave ceiling and built a drop ceiling into which holes are poked at random to let the light shine through. I think we’ve been had.
However, further into the cave the points of light are on the cave walls, and the boat carries us close enough that I can blow on one. It moves! And from the light of an adjacent worm I can see the original worm squirm around. The hungrier the worms are, the brighter they glow—to attract insects. I blow on (disturb) several more worms before Mark scolds me with a nudge.
We bike back for dinner, and after dinner that night, Mark and I ride into town to the cinema. The posh theatre sells candy but not popcorn, and the movie has an intermission to allow folks to come to the lobby for wine. Fancy.
After biking back for our second night at this camp, we lie side by side in our sleeping bags, glad that we have to set this tent up only once more.
posted by Elizabeth Evans Fryer | 5:57 AM
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