Thursday, January 24 Drive to Wellington

    After our long day climbing up the mountain we were in no rush to bust out of camp. So we had a leisurely morning with coffee and cereal and watching the other campers, mostly young travelers from Germany and Italy and France, as they also breakfasted and packed up. By the time it was our turn to leave we were the only ones there.

     The road to Wellington loops and rollercoasts through the hilly volcanic ash countryside. The soil seems to be very fertile, and with plenty of rain and the moderate climate it supports lush pasture for sheep and cattle. Even on impossibly steep hillsides there are grassy contour livestock trails. Other areas are covered with forests of pine trees planted in rows. There is very little of what I would call wild land, jumbled brush or woods with a mixture of tree species of various sizes. What we've seen of the North Island outside of the national parks is mostly well tended land with non-native plants and animals.

NZ countryside

Looks like they're planning on rounding up a whole lot of sheep

Need a pair of shoes anyone?

    As we were driving along I noticed what appeared to be large cherries lying on the side of the road. When we came to a small turnoff overlooking a waterfall, I pulled over to see what they were. Turns out they were tiny wild plums. In Australia we operated under the rubric “Don't touch anything, it could kill you!” Since New Zealand has none of the venomous or dangerous creatures of its large neighbor, and seems a much gentler land, I now assume that nothing here can hurt you. So I found one that looked ripe, cleaned it up a bit and tasted it. Delicious! I told the rest of the gang, and we soon discovered a number of wild plum trees loaded with fruit of various sizes and colors. We harvested as much as we could reach, then drove on.

Kelly climbing up in a tree to fetch wild plums

      Later, while buying some bread from a friendly baker in a small town we passed through, I asked him if it what we had found truly were plums and if they were safe to eat. “Certainly,” he said. Then he said, “Do you have blackberries where you live? You'll have to watch out for them, they'll be growing all over, especially along streams.” Taking it as a warning that these kiwi blackberries might have nasty properties, I asked him if they would make us sick. “Oh no, they're delicious!” he replied.

     We drove to a small town about twenty minutes north of Wellington and found a private campground, where I cooked up spaghetti in the camp kitchen and we settled down for the night.