Today we went to Golden Bay. We left at around 9.30, with our hosts the Lady Scandalous and Grumpy Knight up front, driving, me and the Gentleman Friend in the back. Along the way we drove through the little town of Motueka which is tipped to be the next big thing in the region. The GF and I had been rather seduced by the idea of buying a place here, mostly to rent out and perhaps to live in for a while, so we took a look at some of the streets and drove past houses for sale. It was certainly pleasant. The house for sale was in a rather congested little development so we cast it from our minds at once, but there was a lovely sea-facing road with a small shipwreck that had rows of mansions, and an even lovelier little enclave on Maori land with untidy little houses of which those on one side faced the sea and those on the other the tidal estuary. The main shopping bit of the town was also surprisingly pleasant and characterful, less generic than, say, Taupo.
On we drove and up into the hills over fairly winding roads, going reasonably high though not particularly dizzying to one who made many trips to Murree as a child. There was lush native forest, with huge tree ferns, on either side, and views over bays and valleys. Some green, some gold because of the drought. There is one traffic light on the road which lets cars on one side through and then the other, and the wait is sometimes more than 10 minutes. It did boggle my mind how well behaved people are, I can’t imagine that working on the road to Murree.
On the other side we came into Golden Bay. This is a truly magical part, a secluded feeling valley with steep wooded hills on either side, like a smaller version of the Beqaa, and opening into a beautiful bay. The only real way in and out is the road we took so a couple of years ago when a storm washed it away the valley was isolated for a couple of weeks. The other ways out are by boat, small plane (there is a tiny airfield) and by walking over the Abel Tasman way, a 3-4 day walk around many small bays.
It was all very empty and quiet, with dairy farms and orchards dotted around.
Our first stop here was at the Te Waikoropupu springs. These are reputed to be the clearest in the world (hard to argue I suppose) – immense springs welling from the rocks and though many metres deep they are so clear you can see the white sand at the bottom, green and and blue and shining like a crystal. Around are low hills and native forest. In place the spring wells up through sand, lifting the grains in a continuous waving underwater curtain. Back in the day the Grumpy Knight (who is a local of these parts) used to go diving in, but in recent years as the Maori reasserted their rights, their sacred nature has been recognised and no one is allowed to touch the water. I can certainly see that they are sacred, they have that feeling.
Next we went to the Mussel Inn, a local landmark, for lunch. Mussels for lunch, of course. It was a rough and ready outdoor place with a totem pole encrusted with old mobile phones (clearly people don’t forget their smartphones), with nice mussels and composting toilets though less awful than the image evoked. I do wonder how they do with bidets rather than tissue, and I wonder if they could be modified, perhaps with a thin compostable sheet, that comes out to cover older layers as they build up. (Answer 1: toilet paper only, ugh).
Then we went on to the real purpose of the trip, to collect a herbal tincture from a gentleman with an agave farm and distillery who is hoping or intending to take the spirits markets by storm. We drove into what looked like a fairly recently constructed collection of sheds and into a small, better arranged adobe hut in front. Inside was a small bar with a man who looked and rather behaved like a small Kiwi Tony Soprano. He immediately poured out cocktails for each of us, each using his various products: a gin, a vodka, various liqueurs (lime, tangelo, which appears to be a kinnoo, and chili). He also doled out shots of his tequila which was treated with great respect as he sells it (justifiably or not I couldn’t say) for NZ$950 a bottle. The man is a marketer at heart and had clearly put a lot of thought into his vodka packaging at least. It was covered in blue and gold butterflies, named 9-9 in Chinese market, glittered with gold leaf in the clear liquid, a label claiming it came from the ‘purest water in the world’ and, the crowning touch, had a little blue LED on the base to give it that juju edge. The most recent marketing initiative appears to have been to send a few cases of the vodka to a reggaeton artist with the unlikely name of Young Gambino to make a music video heavily featuring the bottles. Quite special.
We then went on a little tour of the property to hear the proprietor’s plans which are big. There were greenhouses full of agave and other plants, housing for the manager and staff (and potentially bed and breakfast arrangements), immense water tanks, boreholes, vats, distillers, lifters, and 100 kg of green coffee beans from Timor-Leste.
Then we walked up the hillside to where his house, under construction, is. Though the layout was not to my taste, the house, such as it is, was beautiful, overlooking the valley and the bay, with small karst outcrops all over the hillside. To one side the karst boulders made a sort of maze that one could walk through, and I was rather taken by the idea of a swimming pool there. There was a huge breezy veranda lined in wood, and in the distance a pasture full of cows made strange kabbalistic symbols as they moved around the fodder. On the way back down we lingered a little in a shed behind the
On leaving we stopped for ice creams and then went on to Tata beach, a beautiful little cove with a steep dip into the water so one could splash and swim immediately and beware of penguins signs (though I didn’t see any).
Then return, tired and a little overcome by the light, and with a lot of work to finish for Monday.