Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I started off and struck out on the path, which was no more than a worn trail through the
cool forest. The trail lead along the base of the hillside and gradually rose up higher. It was
an easy hike, and I began to unwind. Dappled sunlight broke through the leafy canopy from
time to time; clusters of birds were gossiping in the branches above. I walked for a long
time, taking it very easy. I came to a large clearing with an old wooden bench and table
set in the earth. I stopped and decided to eat my apple. I looked about and saw the ocean
far below with the surrounding bay and all its beautiful contours and details. I took out my
sketch book and spent a pleasant hour sketching this view. I was pleased with the resulting
picture. I continued on my walk and came to a fork in the path. Isn't that just life I thought?
Decisions, decisions wherever we go. I took the lower fork and, after half an hour, the path
dropped down to road level again. I spontaneously held up a thumb as a little sports car
whizzed by. To my great surprise, it stopped and backed up.
The driver was a young man also with a broad smile. Don't these Kiwis ever frown? I
wondered as I sat back, slouching down into the low seat, my backpack on my lap.
“Where you off to then, mate?”
I told him that I was just wandering around the countryside not going any place in particu-
lar.
“I know a cute little farming town I am passing through; you might wanna check it out,
bud.”
He was friendly and very interested in my voyage from South Africa. He was an unusually
good listener for such a young man. We arrived at the little town, and, for the life of me, I
could not remember its name when I wrote about it in my journal later.
There was a grand, old stone church complete with a tall spire and bell house, stained glass
windows, and a solid, wooden arch door. It was majestic and very old. I must have ap-
peared quite rude to the young man as he said goodbye and sped off without a word from
me. I was rather engrossed with the old church. I waved after him, hoping he saw me.
It was a simple, little farming town with mostly elderly people wandering about the little
streets going about their business. There were one or two groups of tourists taking in the
quaintness of a rural New Zealand way of life, and I moved along down the street towards
a huge park.
I had never seen such a magnificent park. I do not know today where it was or what it was
in aid of. It was not a golf course, or any part of any hotel or corporate scheme. It stood
for itself: utter grandeur and beauty through nature and a little gentle encouragement from
a few wise humans. There were fairies living here, I was convinced. The park invoked
image of nursery tales, far off lands with goblins, hobbits, and elves. Great green acres of
