Curiosities

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The other week when I ventured to Lodestone, I arrived at Flora to find that half of the carpark was cordoned off. A crime scene? Highly unlikely. There, on a trailer behind a DOC ute, sat a wee backcountry hut. A couple of guys wearing hi-vis vests were looking skyward, patiently waiting for something to happen. What was it, I wondered.

Flora Carpark

Flora Carpark taped off.

While I put on my boots and readied myself for my tramp to Lodestone, I heard the crackling noises of radio calls going back and forth. Seeing the ropes draped over the hut, I quickly realised that I was about to witness an aerial hut relocation.

Sure enough, after further radio calls, one of the guys wearing a hard hat asked me to stay behind the line, as a chopper was coming in shortly. Suddenly the peace and quiet was swallowed up by the deep, beating noise of helicopter rotor blades.

Helicopter on the approach to Flora Carpark

Here she comes, straight in over Flora Saddle.

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When you talk to Kiwis (New Zealanders) about “tramping” or “being a tramper”, they know exactly what you mean. When you talk to visitors or people abroad, quite often you have to explain what you’re talking about.

Definitions

Online references such as Wiktionary define a tramper as recreational hiker, one who hikes, and a hike as being a long walk.

WordNet comes up with a foot traveler; someone who goes on an extended walk (for pleasure).

While the above is pretty close, it’s not exactly what comes to mind when I think of “tramping” or a “tramper” in New Zealand terms.

Tramper in Cobb Valley at Chaffey Stream

Tramper in Cobb Valley at Chaffey Stream.

So, what exactly is a tramper?

Ask a dozen Kiwis what a tramper is and you’re bound to hear twelve different explanations. The fact is, it cannot be put in one word, perhaps not even in one sentence.

One of the best definitions I have ever come across is the following:

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The Secret Life of Water—Masaru Emoto

The Secret Life of Water—Masaru Emoto—ISBN 978-1-416522-18-8

Water crystal by Masaru Emoto

Water crystal photographed by Masaru Emoto. For more water crystal photos visit www.hado.net/watercrystals/

When I was at school, I was taught that no two snowflakes were identical. I remember being quite overwhelmed by that idea. In art class we drew imaginary snowflakes and water crystals. Sure, every pupil’s drawings looked different, but how could every single snowflake of the zillions that fall from the sky every winter be different?

Over the years, every time I found myself in the midst of a snowstorm, I couldn’t help but ponder the idea of all those unique snowflakes, and my fascination grew into a hunger to find out more.

It so happened that, one day, I came across Masaru Emoto’s intriguing books The Secret Life of Water and The Hidden Messages in Water—the way I view and think about water changed forever.

In his books, Masaru Emoto not only takes the reader on a wondrous journey about water, but also gives a photographic insight into the life of water crystals. His photographs of water crystals are truly amazing and captivating.

While you may not be familiar with Masaru Emoto’s work, I’m almost certain that you find some appreciation for the beauty of the following icy photos, I captured while out tramping:

Thawing ice at Lake Angelus

A spring day at Lake Angelus.

Thawing ice at Lake Angelus

Zillions of melting water crystals at Lake Angelus.

Ice patterns on Lake Peel

Iced over Lake Peel in Kahurangi National Park (click the photo for an enlarged view).

Ice patterns on Lake Peel

What looks like some painter’s abstract artwork, was created by Mother Nature. Defrosted and refrozen ice sheets formed these beautiful patterns on Lake Peel (click the photo for an enlarged view).

Ice patterns on Lake Peel

A close-up view of the above shot. I call it “Dancing Water Spirits” because the lines and patterns remind me of all kinds of creatures. What do you see? Do any of the spirits captivate your imagination? (Click the photo for an enlarged view.)

If you wish to purchase any of the above photos please go to my ice gallery.

One of the great things about New Zealand’s wilderness is the absence of obtrusive restaurants and hotels on mountain tops. Well-prepared trampers make sure they carry enough water for their celebratory drink upon reaching the summit. However, what if the last water supply is a long way away, and you are running low on fluids on a blisteringly hot summer’s day?

In some remote, high places, Kiwi ingenuity may come to the rescue. On my trips in Mt Richmond Forest Park, I have come across rainwater capturing and storage devices such as tins, barrels and even a rubbish bin! Despite of what you may think, generally the water in these containers is very clean. Typically the containers have some sort of a lid with a few holes and shaped in such a way to collect the rainwater.

Richmond Range water points

Water capturing bin on Richmond Range west of Old Man

A rubbish bin, converted to capture rainwater, on the Richmond Range west of Old Man. In the distance you can see Little Rintoul (1643 m) with Mt Rintoul (1731 m) behind.

Water barrel on Old Man

Water barrel on Old Man (1514 m).

Conical Knob water point

One water point that came in handy was the one I encountered on the saddle south of Conical Knob, along the Middy/Roebuck–Mt Fell route. It allowed me to break an eight-hour-plus tramp in half, and hammock camp the night on the saddle.

Water capturing tin on saddle south of Conical Knob

A 1986 New Zealand Forest Service pamphlet reads “…passing a galvanised iron water point (installed by the Nelson Tramping Club) attached to a tree just to the right of the track about a quarter of an hour from Conical Knob.”

Water capturing tin on saddle south of Conical Knob

Number eight wire does the trick and holds the tin up on a beech tree. The row of holes on the lid became apparent once I removed a pile of beech leaves.

Water capturing tin on saddle south of Conical Knob

Open it, and voilà!

Sign above water capturing tin on saddle south of Conical Knob

Sign with some good advice above the water point.

Hammock camp on saddle (1120 m) south of Conical Knob

My hammock camp at 1120 m, on the saddle south of Conical Knob.

Are there any other water points?

Water pointWater points deserve to be appropriately marked on park maps—what do you reckon? I wonder how many of them there are. Have you ever come across any “mountain top thirst quenchers” in New Zealand’s wilderness?

Last night, daylight saving finished and the clocks were put back one hour to New Zealand Standard Time. I’ve always considered it an usual term, “daylight saving”. Imagine for a moment the possibility of being able to save daylight for later use. Wouldn’t that be great? Well, yes and no. Undoubtedly it would result in some sort of conflict. Daylight saving rules would have to be put in place, on who gets to save how much, when it can be used, how much “daylight interest” can be earned, and so forth. Then there would be the scenario of getting into daylight debt—oh, I see, here comes the Daylight Credit Card—good as gold!

The British refer to daylight saving as summer time, equivalent to Sommerzeit in German, and heure d’été in French. Whatever the terminology, over the years I’ve listened to some heated debates on the pros and cons of daylight saving. How could tweaking a time zone cause such intense deliberation?

Perhaps it shows how much our lives revolve around a set timetable. The alarm clock rings at a set time, work hours are fixed, traffic jams occur with peculiar regularity, meal breaks are scheduled, as are TV programmes, sports events and club meetings, and the list goes on…

If it wasn’t for our timetabled and scheduled lives, daylight saving would be irrelevant. After all, our planet keeps on orbiting the sun, the seasons come and go, no matter how we arrange our time zones. I often become aware of that when I go tramping in New Zealand’s wilderness, away from schedules and any electricity. I get up at dawn and hit the sack at nightfall; I make most of the daylight in between—whether it’s saved or unsaved!

Sunrise at Anapai Bay, Abel Tasman National Park

Sunrise at Anapai Bay, Abel Tasman National Park

For more photos please refer to my sunrise or sunset gallery.

On a number of occasions, while venturing into New Zealand’s wilderness, I spotted rather unusual animal tracks: tiny, yet distinct paws with five pads and five claws. I had a sneaking suspicion that they belonged to bears! What a crazy idea—surely there are no wild bears in New Zealand!

Finally, after months of searching and many hours spent waiting in the bush, I can reveal that my suspicion was indeed justified. As incredible as it may sound, there are in fact bears roaming the hills and valleys in Kahurangi National Park!

This is exciting news! At long last I was lucky to catch a glimpse of the bears and managed to capture a couple of them with my telephoto lens.

This astounding discovery poses many new questions: How did the bears get there? How long have they lived in the wild? What size populations are there? What species do they belong to? How far does their habitat extend? What impact do they have on the environment and native plant life?

A lot of research will be necessary to find an answer to the above questions.

Nonetheless, I won’t keep you on tenterhooks any longer, here are the sensational photos of the newly discovered Kahurangi bears:

Bear on Aorere Peak overlooking Island Lake

Bear on Aorere Peak overlooking Island Lake

Bear checking out a Northwest Nelson gentian in Sanctuary Basin

Bear checking out a Northwest Nelson gentian in Sanctuary Basin

Bear on Baton Saddle

Bear on Baton Saddle

Bears on a mossy mound near Moonstone Lake

Bears on a mossy mound near Moonstone Lake

A few nights ago, as I left my house and looked up to the sky, I was awestruck by a beautiful lunar halo. While I have observed this phenomenon before, this one was particularly stunning. These optical halos more frequently appear around the sun, and are usually caused by ice crystals in the atmosphere, reflecting and retracting light.

On one of my tramping trips up the Cobb Valley I spotted a 22° halo with two sun dogs. As I researched these phenomena further, I came across Paraselene.de with a comprehensive gallery of images with brief explanations dedicated to atmospheric optics and astrophotography—well worth a visit!

Another good reference is, of course, Wikipedia: Atmospheric optical phenomena.

Lunar halo22° halo and sun dogsRainbow

Have you observed and taken photos of optical phenomena?

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